Harry Potter and the Secret Link
by Capricious Purple Clarity
Summary: GWHP xover. Watch as Duo chips away at the very foundation of Hogwarts as he breaks down House walls, befriends Gryffs and Slyths alike, mugglfies Malfoys, and flushes cherry bombs down school toilets. Read, laugh, enjoy. YAOI
1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine; this disclaimer applies to all chapters.

**STATUS**: Crossover between Gundam Wing and Harry Potter. Eighteen and a half chapters have already been written.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Since Gundam Wing takes place a long time in the future and the first Harry Potter is based in 1991, a few delicate changes with the time frame needs to be made. For example, Nearly Headless Nick (the Gryffindor ghost) had his 500th deathday in book two ("Harry Potter and the Camber of Secrets"). Because his cake clearly stated the date of his death (October 31, 1492), Nicholas' state of dress, his botched beheading, ect., Nick will simply have to be older than bordering-on-504-years-dead. Also, Albus Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald in 1945 and any other recent material will have to be adjusted to the time frame. The year is A.C. 196; Harry Potter and friends are in their sixth year at Hogwarts, and they are sixteen (or bordering it, as only Harry and Dudley's birthdays are celebrated in the book, and it's hinted Hermione's birthday is sometime before school's out). It's called "artistic license." If you don't like it, deal.

**WARNINGS**: Yaoi/slash. Gay stuff. Don't like it? Well, nobody's holding a gun to your head and threatening your very existence if you don't read.

**SUMMARY**: GWHP Crossover. Duo Maxwell's unique brand of luck strikes again. Ron wants to keep him, even if he does have some weird obsession with flirting with Snape. Snape just wants to know where to bury the body. YAOI-SLASH.

**PAIRINGS**: 1+2, 3+4, 5, HGRW, _maybe_ DMHP... DMHP all depends on how it works out, and I haven't decided on who I'm going to pair Wufei with, or even if I'm going to pair Wufei.

**REVISION AS OF 04-02-06**: In accordance to the site's stricter guidelines in reference to replying to reviewers within the fic itself, I've decided to remove anything pertaining to replies in the first place. Also, I've made several minuscule changes due to typos, grammar mistakes, and various other things. Nothing major, and nothing more than the addition of a sentence or two in chapter twenty-six. And while I quite don't understand why FF. Net has something against fics with lyrics in them (but I would cry if this one was deleted), I decided it would be prudent to take out the lyrics in two chapters, as well. However, don't be surprised if you come across this fic on some other site and the lyrics are still there. :_grins_:

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_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter One**_

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Geoffrey Heckelmuff was a rather decrepit old man. His thinning, discolored hair barely covered his ever-growing bald spot at the back of his head as his hairline receded at such a pace that he would most likely be near complete baldness by winter. Once he had been a tall, striping young lad, but now he was short and slumped over, his once flawlessly tanned skin wrinkled and paled since the peak of his younger years. Thick, black rimmed glasses nearly encompassed his entire face, increasing the size of his beady eyes to five times their actual size. His mouth was a permanent thin line of seriousness, as the time from his youth had rarely caused any more smiles. Nonetheless, laugh lines (or more accurately termed as 'crows feet') stayed with him even into his wizened years, marking him once a happy man.

Despite all of this, Geoffrey would like to think that he was a diligent, hardworking man. He did his job right and did it extremely well. He wasn't paid well, but it was a decent pay nevertheless. He wouldn't trade his job for any other job in the world.

Geoffrey was, as it were, a recruiter for schools. Ah, but not just any school. Geoffrey Heckelmuff was the head of the Department of the Recruitment of Young Witches and Wizards, a small, almost barely recognized name of a department under the Ministry of Magic. His job, and the job of those that were under him, was to seek out potential witches and wizards, place their names on a list, and send it off by owl to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. From there, Hogwarts (which was his school alma mater) would take care of the rest. He considered his part of the process an important task, and took great pride in it.

For almost seventy years Geoffrey had accomplished his job without error. Never had there been an accident involving an over-aged aspiring wizard or witch having a magical catastrophe in the middle of a public area. Never had a Muggle accidently been sent to Hogwarts only to find that he or she did not possess even an inkling of power at all. If there were suspicions that, should the witch or wizard be Muggle-borne, the parents would disapprove, a separate letter was sent to the child while a Muggle-looking one was sent to the parent or parents, informing them that their child had been accepted into a normal, prestigious school that required special... needs of them (Well, except for that incident with the Boy-Who-Lived and his Muggle-if-he-ever-heard-of-one aunt, uncle, and cousin, but that wasn't really the fault of the department; more so, it was the fault of the Muggle for taking a letter that did not belong to him). This usually did not set off any alarms, and both sides were usually very happy with the situation.

Geoffrey Heckelmuff had never had a mistake in all of his almost-seventy years... until one of his subordinates, a man in his fifties, finally confessed to a mistake on his part. As it turned out, this man had gone a little lax of the high regulations Geoffrey had set for the department. Five years ago, a young lad should have been sent his letter. Because of the man's bumbling (and, Geoffrey admitted, his distracted attention), this young lad did not receive his letter. A sixteen year old with incredible power was walking around, a proverbial ticking timed spell just waiting to go off.

"Sir," the subordinate said nervously, squeaky regiments from his younger days still lasting through his worn voice, "that's not all."

Geoffrey Heckelmuff thought things couldn't have gotten any worse than making a mistake. As it turned out, things did get worse. A lot worse.

He yelled, he ranted, he threw a fit so outraged that it was sure to take ten years off his already long life. Finally he flopped down into his chair, having acrimoniously dismissed the careless man with many dire words, and covered his face with his shriveled, thin-fingered hands. Finally he wrote a hurried letter and sent it to the Ministry.

Already he could see his retirement benefits flying out the window and into a sinkhole.

----------

It was a rainy day on Privet Drive, especially dark at Number 4 Privet Drive. The air there seemed thicker with electricity, the clouds so dark above the beautiful if not mundane home of the Dursleys. A tarp covered their top-of-the-line sports car, and toys carelessly left about on the front porch were hurriedly brought in by the mother of the household, if only because her son refused to do so. The first bolt of lightning seemed to strike just about their home, and the thunder clapped almost an instant after. It was the yard of Number 4 Privet Drive that experienced the first drop of fat rain, and the second, third, and fourth. Soon all of Privet Drive and neighboring streets were experiencing the sudden rainstorm.

This did not dapper the mood of Vernon Dursley. In fact, the sudden rainfall seemed to irritate him even further.

Vernon Dursley was a Muggle. He was, in fact, about as Muggle as anyone could get, and he rather wanted it to remain that way. He wore his most boring ties to work, and sat with his back to the window. He had a good day when he had the opportunity to yell at people, especially those who worked under him at his company, Grunnings, where he ran drills. It was all about appearances to him; he refused to tolerate anything out of the norm, and judged everyone by their car or home.

Vernon Dursley was a rather overweight man, not exactly morbidly obese like his son, but he could stand to lose a few good pounds. He had almost no neck and a mustache that had seemed to loose a tuft here and there due to his nature of pulling on it hard enough to yank the hairs out. Vernon was also the type of person to find something to complain about. At the moment of the rainfall, he was complaining about weathermen and how their predictions were wrong. Even if they were wrong only sometimes, to Vernon, sometimes was just too much. Another thing he liked to continuously gripe about was his nephew Harry.

Harry Potter had always been thin, but he had grown even more lanky in his years. His ebony hair, no matter how many times he seemed to go to the barber to have it cut in a tamable style, grew jagged and uneven. Glasses adorned his bright green eyes, and under his wild hair a scar shaped much like the lightning outside hid. Harry's clothes were always too big for his too thin frame because most of his wardrobe consisted of hand-me-downs the Dursleys' son had grown out of. In respect to school, Harry wasn't like other children. In one way, he liked being at school way more than he liked being away. At least at school he didn't have to put up with family that hated him. Another thing that set him off from other children was the kind of school Harry went to. Under the grumbling protests of his uncle (who once vehemently denied that Harry should go, but was persuaded otherwise by a certain half-giant named Hagrid) Harry attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry was an aspiring wizard.

He missed a lot of things about Hogwarts. One was his opportunity to be away from the Dursleys, but with a family like them, who would want to be around? He also missed his friends and how freely he could just practice his magic inside the safe walls of the prominent school. He missed Quidditch, a wizard's game that, he had to admit, he was quite good at. He missed talking about magic, which was something Vernon fanatically prohibited from being spoken of inside or outside his home. He missed hearing about magic, breathing magic, anything to do with magic he missed with a passion.

Harry was taken out of his thoughtful mood when his aunt Petunia began to fix salad with nonfat dressing and steamed chicken. That story had lightened Harry's mood even if he did have to suffer under the family diet with the Dursleys.

Petunia was taller and much thinner than Vernon. She had a long neck that she craned over her shoulder in order to catch the latest gossip. She was horribly horse faced and blonde, with small eyes, a large nose, and a mouth that seemed to always thin with distaste whenever she even spared a glance at Harry. Petunia was his mother's sister, and she was deeply disgusted when her sister began attending Hogwarts. For a while, she and Vernon went as far as to pretend she didn't even have a sister. When Harry came to the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive, the two made up quick, horrible lies about Harry's parents, going as far as to claiming they were layabout drunks without jobs and filthy habits. They even went as far as telling him they died in a car wreck he was a survivor of. Usually that was as far as they would go about Lily and James Potter.

Petunia had received letters of concern from the nurses at the school the youngest Dursley attended. He could no longer fit in the Smeltings' uniform. Not even their biggest size could fit him. With the letter of concern, the thoughtful nurse had included a list of dietary needs. Petunia could no longer claim that her son was big boned; hence, the salad. Much to Dudley's protests (including much wailing and blubbering) he and the rest of the family _had_ to undergo the diet.

Dudley Dursley was a classic example of one who was morbidly obese. He had a large pink face, not much neck, thick blonde hair, small watery blue eyes that he shared in common with his mother, and an attitude that was rank. Dudley had many favorite pass times (TV, video games, Mega Mutilation Four, toys, ect.), but there was none as high on his list as his two favorites: eating and beating on Harry, not in that respective order. Or at least, those were things he used to do. Ever since Harry began going to Hogwarts, Dudley had voted not to be around the thinner boy in fear of having a hex of some kind cast on him. And due to the diet, he had not had as much to eat as he usually did.

Petunia stonily placed the small bowls of salad in front of them. He noticed with no surprise that Dudley had at least half of Harry's meager salad piled into his own bowl. In fact, most of his was the brown part that looked far too unappetizing.

It was when he entered his small bedroom (a large improvement over the cupboard under the stairs) that he received a letter from Ron. Pig whirled around the room in frantic excitement, and Harry hushed him with quick words before he opened the parchment Ron had sent him. It was a clipping from the Daily Prophet, a prosperous wizarding newspaper. With red, Ron had underlined the headline of the front page and had quickly scribbled "READ!" in large letters.

**MINISTRY FOULS AGAIN!**

**Mysterious New Student Found Overage!**

**Some people work very hard at their jobs, writes reporter John Tobbs for the _Daily Prophet_. But in this case, working very hard just isn't good enough, as the Department of the Recruitment of Young Witches and Wizards has so thoughtfully proved.**

**To the shock of the magical world, the head of the Department of the Recruitment of Young Witches and Wizards, Geoffrey Heckelmuff, has just recently found a mistake pertained to his underling, Jobe Mickels. Mickels has recently confessed, to the shame of Heckelmuff, that his organization skills over the years were not the best. Five years ago, an aspiring young wizard had been left out of the wizarding world, alone with a power he could in no possible way understand. A mistake like this has not been made in over a hundred years of the Ministry's history.**

**The left out wizard's name has yet to be released by the Ministry of Magic or Hogwarts, but rumor has had it that this stranger is in some strange way connected to the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. In case some of our readers did not know, Harry Potter is the one person in the history of magic-kind that has survived and defeated the feared He Who Shall Not Be Named. This piece of information has made us of the Daily Prophet curious, and we hope to have more on that soon.**

**In the meantime, the young wizard is immediately being sought out. The Ministry has assured us that the forgotten boy will be taking quick classes over the summer to hopefully have the boy in his proper age group. All of us who went to Hogwarts will know of the tough time the young wizard will be having, and unless he's a born natural, this paper has severe doubts of him making it to the third year over the summer.**

At the end of the article, a quickly scrawled message, "Wild, huh?" was followed by Ron's signature.

"Yeah," Harry murmured thoughtfully, tilting his head as he slowly put the clipped article on his desk. "Wild." With this appearance of this new boy, something told him that this year was going to be a little different from every other adventure-filled year at Hogwarts.

----------

Somewhere in Ireland, a boy had just recently purchased a cheap, rinky-dink hotel room for the night. The neon light of the sign splayed in ugly, block letters "Ocean Shore Hotel" in twitching, dying light. There was only one floor of rooms, and that floor only had forty-seven rooms. The boy had checked into room forty-two, which surprisingly did have a nice view of the ocean front. The room was sparsely decorated, as if someone actually grew taste overnight and tried to make the simple seedy room look homey. There was only one bed and one pillow, with a television set that only picked up eight stations. The bathroom, which was currently occupied, barely had enough room to maneuver. Someone had such a bad idea when they decided to try and push the sink and mirror, the toilet, and the shower into the same small room. If he bent over, his butt would be hitting the sink and his face would be damn near implanted in the toilet. If he faced the shower and did the same, he would probably bump his butt against the door and fall forward only to split his head open on the cracked tub. But the water was hot and they actually had entertaining movies on TV, so who was he complained? He couldn't exactly afford comfort.

Outside of the tiny bathroom, where the steam built up behind the closed door, there was mysterious fluttering outside of his hotel room door, followed by the soft hoots of a barn owl. Mere seconds later, a small envelope slipped underneath the door. Somehow, as if controlled by something other than the air conditioner, which seemed to be permanently set on sub-zero, the parchment curled in midair a few times before floating softly to the bed.

Minutes later the shower's water ran to a trickle. The door slowly opened, emitting steam as the colder air flew into the once enclosed room. The boy, teeth chittering under the sudden clash of cold and hot, hurried to his pack to throw something warm over his nude form. The towels weren't even big enough to wrap around his waist, and compared to many, his waist was tiny. It was once he threw on a pair of boxers and wooly pants (and in the middle of looking for a shirt that was at least partially clean) that the boy noticed the letter.

Slowly, knowing instantly that the yellowish-brown envelope hadn't been there before, he glided toward the bed. With nimble fingers, he cautiously picked it up and read the address to himself.

**Duo Maxwell**

**Room 42 of Ocean Shore Inn**

**Ocean Shore, Ireland **

Duo blinked. This letter really shouldn't have found him at all. No one knew where he was, as he had taken to constantly wandering and rarely keeping in contact with anyone who would actually care. For a letter to reach him this fast when he had checked in only an hour before... well, that was only possible if the person sending the letter knew where he would end up before he did, and there was no way said person could predict he'd be in this exact room.

So who would send him a letter? Correction: How could this letter get to HIM?

Duo Maxwell was an exceptionally handsome young boy; many would be quick to claim he was quite pretty. He had thick, long chestnut hair in an elegant plait, and wide purple eyes that almost glittered with some kind of positive emotion during any situation. He usually wore some semblance of a priest outfit; tight black jeans and a black shirt with rolled sleeves, the underside white, while a tiny sliver of white hinted at a priest's collar. A small, golden cross usually hung from around his neck, but he had laid it on the television in anticipation for his long shower.

Duo also had a dark past. It was that very stigma that drove him to moving about, rarely staying in one place for too long. If he did, his time there would only span to a little over a month before he moved on again. It was his dark past that kept him from carelessly ripping open the envelope to get to the letter inside. Or, more aptly put, it was his training _in_ that dark past. Duo Maxwell, sixteen and still living, had been a trained assassin/killer/terrorist by the time he had been fourteen. He had saved the world -twice- before his sixteenth birthday. With the end of the war behind him, he had the secret of the Gundam with him, and an unknown future before him.

That was strangely a little too poetic for him.

With care he flipped the old-fashioned seal from the back and easily slipped the parchment from inside. Slowly he unfurled it. The first thing he noticed was that the letter was written in green ink on tanned paper. The second thing he noticed was what it said.

_Dear Duo Maxwell,_

_It has been brought to the attention of the faculty at Hogwarts, a school for youth with special abilities, that a grave mistake has been made. Because of this mistake, I would wish to ask to meet you in person so we can discuss your future with our school. I am regretful that I cannot explain all in a letter, but this meeting is of dire importance._

_Included is a map of a part of Scotland you should be familiar with. In three days you will be picked up by a very close friend, who will bring you to this school to meet me. Just meet him near the Forbidden Forest, but be careful not to come into the forest! The Forbidden Forest is very dangerous during the summer._

_I look forward to meeting you again, Duo Maxwell._

_Professor Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts_

"A... again?"

That last sentence only cemented the deal. Duo would be heading for Scotland by morning.

No one said traveling to such an unpopulated portion of Scotland like that would be easy. Duo only proved more so. He almost didn't make it in time for the third day; in fact, he thought he had missed the date. But as he traveled the outskirt of the dark, creepy forest that even sent chills down Duo's spine (and that was not an easy accomplishment), he finally found the person he was looking for. Or, as it was, the person who was looking for him.

Jesus, that guy was big.

The man Duo supposed was waiting for him was tall. Taller than Rashid, Quatre Winner's servant and comrade, and that was saying a lot when in reference to Rashid. Duo supposed this man had to be a good foot and a half over Rashid, and maybe taller. His shoulders were wide and his arms heavily muscled; Duo had little doubt that this man could go against a mobile suit barehanded and have a good chance of putting up a good fight. His black hair was wild, long and untamed by a comb. His beard was in similar state, and was so bushy it nearly covered his entire face. The only thing Duo could see really well were his eyes. Those eyes were too friendly to fit such a mean-looking exterior. Those eyes were the only reason Duo didn't turn around and hurry away before the giant could catch glance of him.

The giant caught sight of him, and a wide grin broke out from under that bushy beard. "Oy! Ya must be Duo, hey? Duo Maxwell?"

Determined not to show nervousness at the booming voice, Duo nodded with a confident grin on his face. "That's me! I run, I hide, but I never, ever tell a lie!" Duo imitated a low, sweeping bow before straightening and quickly giving the giant a sweeping look. "You must be the friend the headmaster mentioned. You're taking me to Professor Dumbledore, right?"

"Aye," agreed the giant. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid. Most call me Hagrid. I'll be leadin' ya 'round the Forbidden Forest to git ta the school. Any questions 'fore we go?"

"Yeah. Why's it forbidden?" He motioned to the forest, but Hagrid did not see the motion. He was already walking in a direction beside it.

"That'll be explained in due time, lad."

To the outside world, it would be uncertain as to what words were exchanged between Duo Maxwell and Albus Dumbledore. Sometimes even Duo was unsure as to whether he had all of his facts straight. Yet, in any case, Duo remained at the school for the rest of the summer.

_**END CHAPTER ONE**_


	2. Chapter Two

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I started on this fic _way_ before The Order of the Phoenix came out. This generally wouldn't be such a big deal -not much of Sirius is mentioned at all. (If you're a HP fan and you haven't read The Order of the Phoenix, you might want to disregard the rest of this author's note. It contains spoilers -though I can't understand HOW you haven't stumbled upon it by now...) However, after reading the fifth book, I kind of realized that Harry was a little too bland in relation to his godfather's murder, especially when it comes to Snape. Unless I want to do a major rewrite -and I kind of like it how it is- TOotP is totally nix. :_long-suffering sigh_: I didn't want to be the type of author that miraculously brings Sirius back to life. JKR killed him off -true, that upset me, but that gives me a lot of grief and bitter things to work with in the HP universe. In any case, Sirius is alive, but not by my choice.

Thanks goes to all my lovely reviewers.

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_**Harry Potter and the Missing Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Two**_

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****

"Magic."

The man named Albus Dumbledore smiled benignly, a certain disputable twinkle in his light blue eyes as he looked over the rims of his half-moon spectacles at the boy languidly sprawled in the chair on the other side of his desk. It had taken quite some time to get Duo Maxwell to settle down into a comfortable enough position to explain the reason as to why Albus had sent for him in the first place. Upon entering his office, Duo had gone from one corner to the next, looking over curious nicknacks with all the enthusiasm of a small boy who often had his hand caught in the cookie jar. Now the boy with the long, plaited hair was finally reclined before him, his eyebrows raised in a delicate sense of silent "you've **got** to be kidding me" as he looked Dumbledore over in more than a little doubt.

"Well," Duo said airily, but still with an amount of doubt in his voice; he sounded as if he was soothing the ranting of an old, senile man, which, Albus thought with amusement, was a tone that was often adopted when addressing him. "That's all well and good, but what's that got to do with the sudden shift in tides around the east coast of North America?"

Albus blinked, thrown off. He caught on when the boy smirked at him, and he found himself smiling once again. "I suppose, Mr. Maxwell, that the tides of around the coast of North America can be explained by the slight rotational shift of the moon, caused by recent battles so large that the orbit of our natural satellite has been disturbed."

Duo's laughter was pleasant and almost childlike. "Of course! That explains everything. Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Dumbledore, I'm sure you have better things to do..."

"Please sit, Mr. Maxwell," Albus requested, genteel. "I can assure you, this is not a joke. Though most do regard me with a certain air of uncertainty -apparently, I've managed to garner the image of a senile old man- I do not joke when it comes to magic."

The boy returned to his seat, his eyebrow still raised in skepticism. "Right." He leaned forward suddenly, grinning. "Prove it."

When Albus pulled his wand from the folds of his sleeve, he found himself blinking once again when, in an instant, the boy vaulted out of his seat and pulled a curious thing from the back of his waist band and pointed it directly between Albus' eyes. The thing was cold, black metal and had strange grooves marked on either side. The barrel was small while its trappings were quite large; Duo's palm and fingers were wrapped comfortably around the handle, and one finger extended around a curved piece of metal protected by another ring of metal that extended from the barrel to the handle.

"What is that?" Albus questioned curiously, tilting his head to study the instrument, no doubt of Muggle origins.

The boy's eyes widened from their previously narrowed state, but he didn't lower the barrel on inch as he replied flatly, "You're kidding." Duo's eyes went to the wand grasped in Albus' hand, and he relaxed minutely. "A stick? You have me freaking out over a _stick_?"

"Not a stick, Mr. Maxwell." Albus smiled. "A wand."

"Wand." Frank disbelief weighed in Duo's voice as, very slowly, he lowered his curious instrument. "Right. Magic wand. And apparently, you don't know what a gun is. Fabulous."

"Gun?" Albus questioned, intrigued. "What does a gun do?"

The multitude of expressions that passed over Duo's face were interesting and, more times than not, disporting. Finally Duo's expression settled on amusement, and he replied swiftly, "It's a weapon. Inside the handle is a clip of bullets -small projectiles filled with gunpowder with a metal tip that's strong enough to penetrate bone. If I had pulled the trigger, a spark would have ignited the gunpowder, and the bullet would have traveled down the barrel at such a speed that it would have... well, blown your brains out. You really shouldn't be pulling anything from anywhere around someone like me, Mr. Dumbledore. I have a feeling Mr. Hagrid would have cheerfully squished me to paste for killing you."

Albus' eyebrows rose fractionally. "Indeed he would have, Mr. Maxwell. I apologize." He watched as the boy flipped a button on the side of the gun and easily replaced the thing in the waist of his pants before sitting back down. "I think I would like to see a demonstration of this... gun... later. As of now, however... do you mind if I demonstrate magic?"

The boy grinned wildly. "Are you going to pull a rabbit out of your hat?"

Albus had to laugh. Such an odd question! "I don't keep rabbits in my hat, Mr. Maxwell, and I suspect that if I did, it wouldn't smell pleasant at all." He raised his wand. "_Lumos_."

Duo's eyes widened fractionally when the tip of Albus' wand erupted into a bright, white glow. Eyes narrowing slightly, the boy calmly asked if he could examine Albus' wand. With a casual cancellation of the spell, Albus handed the boy his wand easily enough.

The boy continued to examine the wand thoroughly, studying from hilt to tip before giving the handle an experimental squeeze. He repeated the motion Albus had used with no error, murmuring the spell under his breath.

One of the glass bobbles on Albus' desk exploded into a million, tiny pieces. The boy blinked, startled for a moment before he handed the wand back to Albus absently, switching his gaze to the area the little bobble had once sat, now glittering with the dust of glass shards.

Albus' tisked casually. "My wand is only compatible with me, Mr. Maxwell, just as yours will be."

"What?" Duo said sharply, his eyes flying back up to Albus' face. "There are a dozen things that could explain away that light and your paperweight breaking, and none of them include magic."

Albus' managed to stifle a sigh. "If that is what you believe. _Reparo_." When the glass disappeared and the rounded globe was once again whole on his desk, he smiled quite absently at Duo. "Is there any way I could convince you otherwise, Mr. Maxwell?"

Duo's eyebrows were raised once more, and he glanced over the glass globe critically before slowly saying, "There's at least one way to explain how that thing got there again."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," Duo said brightly, grinning again as he fell back into his seat. "Magic. So, Mr. Dumbledore -you said something about me getting one of these wands, right?"

Albus smiled, but before he could say much of anything, there was a sharp rap at his door. "Ah, that would be our esteemed Potions Master now. You may enter, Severus."

When the old man's Potions Master -whatever that was- swept in with billowing black robes and a dark glower on his face, Duo let out a near-silent sigh of relief. Oh, good. Dressing in the dark didn't seem to be a wizard trait at all. He'd wondered, what with Albus Dumbledore's dazzling orange and cotton candy pink... er, outfit. At first, Duo figured the old man was color blind. After about five minutes of talking to him, the braided boy revised his original thought. The man clearly dressed that way to off-set those that would underestimate him.

At least, that's what Duo hoped it was.

This new guy had a sharp eye and, by the looks of it, an even sharper tongue. Black robes that buttoned all the way to the collar, oily black hair bound tightly at the nape of his neck, sallow skin, and a rather large nose; Duo figured with a little work involving a tan and a bottle of shampoo, this guy had the potential to actually be something of a looker. It all depended on how he looked under that black dress. _Robe_, Duo corrected himself silently.

Duo grinned suggestively when he caught the man giving him the old look over. "Like what you see?"

The man snorted and turned back to the Headmaster, dismissing Duo almost instantly. _Score! Man, I love it when presumptuous jerks mark me off as a total idiot_.

"Headmaster," the Potions Master addressed the man stiffly. "I hope this doesn't take long. I was working on a very volatile project."

Duo raised an eyebrow. Call him crazy, but he didn't think normal people really talked to their bosses that way. Going by the almost amused expression on Dumbledore's face, Duo surmised that the relationship between them might have been a bit more than just employer to employee.

"I'm afraid you're about to be very cross with me, Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"And somehow I didn't expect it to be any other way," the man said smarmily. Duo figured Dumbledore made it a habit to irritate other people. In other words, his kind of guy.

"I suspect it involves your... guest," the man continued, flickering another dismissive glance toward Duo. "He's not one of mine, nor is he Minerva's."

"Mr. Maxwell was just recently enrolled here, Severus," Dumbledore said airily. "Mr. Maxwell, this charming gentleman here is Professor Severus Snape. Severus, this is Duo Maxwell."

Duo narrowed his eyes suspiciously when Snape glanced at Dumbledore sharply, catching a brief surge of surprise and trepidation behind those coal black eyes before the man quickly and efficiently hid away his emotions. Well, two could play at that game. By the time Snape turned his attention back to Duo, the braided boy was smiling guilelessly once again, a sparkle of mischief in his amethyst eyes.

"Call me Duo," the Gundam pilot said cheerfully. "'Mr. Maxwell' makes me want to look for a responsible adult for you to talk to."

"Indeed," Snape said cooly, staring at Duo as if the man was completely reevaluating his previous thoughts of the boy.

Duo blew him a kiss. He couldn't stop the snicker that slipped passed his lips when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Scary frowned at him.

"Would I be wrong to assume that Maxwell is the same boy the Daily Prophet has been raving about for the last few days?"

"You would not," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling again. "Severus, Duo needs someone to escort him to Diagon Alley for his wand, scales, cauldron, parchment, ink, and quills. How much knowledge he'll be able to retain through such a short period of time will determine what year he will be in, but I'm sure our excellent team of professors will be able to catch you up to your age level, Duo. You seem to be an extremely quick young man."

"Sweet of you to think so," Duo said in good humor.

"I presume you've volunteered me for this errand, Headmaster?" Snape said wearily.

"You sure do presume a lot," Duo pointed out with a smirk, ignoring Snape's acidic glare.

"Quite right, Severus," Dumbledore said blithesomely, also ignoring the obvious tension set in Snape's shoulders. The old man reached into one of his cluttered desk drawers and brought out a small key the size of Duo's smallest finger.

"Duo," the wizen old man said kindly, "this is the key to the vault of your mother's inheritance, now yours. She left it with me for safe keeping shortly before she disappeared, before you were born."

"My mother?" Duo repeated slowly. "She was... like you people?"

"Ah, yes. Dear Angelica Proud," Dumbledore murmured fondly. "An American girl. Many American students transferred to Hogwarts after Salem's Institute for the Witch and Wizard was destroyed in the summer of AC 177. She was going into her sixth year when she enrolled -Slytherin, if I remember correctly. A charming young woman -you have her eyes."

"That's..." More than Duo knew about her, actually. He always assumed his mother was an L2 prostitute who either couldn't afford an abortion and didn't have the nerve to terminate her own pregnancy herself, or was too green and naive to even consider abortion an option. This whole 'your mother was a witch' thing brought up a lot of unasked questions. "... cool. So, Sevy, ready to take me on a tour a la Potions Master?"

The man's eyelid ticked ominously. _Score!_ "That's Professor Snape, Maxwell."

"That's Duo, Sexy."

"Sexy!"

Dumbledore put a hand over his mouth. Duo supposed that was an effort to cover his amused 'cough'. "Well, have fun, you two."

"Always." Duo smirked at Snape. Snape glared hot death at Duo.

_This is the beginning of a beau-ti-ful student-teacher relationship_, Duo thought gleefully, mentally rubbing his hands together and cackling ominously.

Hogwarts saw a lot more action than the resident staff was used to during the summer...

Crash! Shatter!

Wail. "My greenhouse!"

Glibly. "Well, at least the other six are-" Shatter, rumble! "Spoke too soon."

Sob. "My begonias!"

Whoosh!

"Ack!" Scuffle, scuffle. Sizzle!

Hides wand behind his back. Sheepishly. "Um. I'm pretty sure eyebrows grow back. Eventually. Er, Professor Flitwick, sir."

"Just a pinch of asphodel, Maxwell... I said just a-!"

Boom! Thump!

"... Er, Sev? Sexy? Professor Snape?" Nudge, nudge. "Um, Sexy...? Damn, how long does this Draught of the Living Death stuff last, anyway?..."

"So, Headmaster! Are you going to Sort me now, or Sort me with the first years?"

"Yes, well. About that, Duo..."

"Yeah, I suspected some of the House Heads wouldn't want me. Did you know Professor Sprout actually called me the spawn of Satan yesterday? I didn't expect it from her -Sexy, maybe, but not Sprout. So who's the unlucky guy who gets stuck with me? I hope you give him a compensation raise."

And then the evening of September 1st fell...

The Gryffindor house discovered something unusual when all years but the first years, who had taken the traditional boat route to enter Hogwarts, began to file into the large dining hall. In the dining hall there was a total of four long rows of tables filled with empty plates and silverware. On a plateau at the head of the hall was a smaller horizontal table. Most of the teachers and the headmaster had already taken their seats. The most spectacular feature about the dining hall was the ceiling, or in this case, the lack there of. Lit candles floated in suspended air, but otherwise the ceiling was an exact replication of the current sky. The night was clear, alight with bright stars twinkling down. The moon shone full at the far corner. Students paused momentarily to watch a shooting star tendril across.

When the Gryffindor house began to seat, they found that one had already joined the table. His face wasn't familiar. He had long hair twined in a braid, and transfixing violet eyes that caught the attention of the ladies, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and Slytherin alike. A glittering trinket shone against his black robes, and further looks found it to be a Christian cross.

Coincidentally, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger found themselves either sitting beside him or in front of him. Hermione, a fifth year with wild untamed hair, and Ron, a freckle-faced redheaded boy with a nose a little too big for his face, sat on either side of him. Ron was to the left, and Hermione was to the right. Harry, to much disappointment from the girls, had taken the seat in front of the handsome young man without really noticing he was there.

That is, until the young man grinned so cheerfully in a manner that Ron later claimed 'surprisingly did not send the ladies into a frenzy'. Suddenly Harry felt he should know the young man.

"Hey," the braided boy said in a clear American accent. "Sit here often?" Coming from anyone else, such a line sounded ridiculous. In the eyes of all surrounding females (except Hermione, who, after Lockhart, found it difficult to accept a man at face value) this line sounded so completely suave.

Before Harry could answer that question (and ask a few himself, including "what's your name?" and "where'd you come from?"), Professor McGonagall began to lead all the first year students into the hall. All tables grew quiet, and all but the braided American and Harry watched their path slowly carve down the isle.

"What's your name?" the American asked instead, and Harry blinked.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

The boy was completely unmoved by his name. Usually he couldn't mention his name without someone going at least a little batty on him. Instead he reached out his hand for Harry to accept. Harry took it, absently noting the many calluses the boy had gathered.

"Cool. I'm Duo Maxwell."

_**END CHAPTER TWO**_

* * *

**Reviews welcomed and coveted!**


	3. Chapter Three

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I'm well aware that students don't get their schedules until the morning of their first class. My reasoning for Ron and Harry getting theirs before that is: Ron is a prefect, and as such, he managed to nick the schedules from Hermione before the girl realized. Ron strikes me as the kind of prefect that would do that.

**Ron being in Potions: **Well, as I had written this BEFORE OotP, I hadn't known that, by sixth year, the professors would have weeded out any students that were not compatible with their classes by way of OWLS. For the sake of my story, that's not the way things happen. Sorry -I try to be as canon as humanly possible while still getting my way, but OotP basically makes a lot of things in this fic obsolete. :_pouts_:

**AS OF 07-22-05: **Yeah, so... Apparently OotP _and_ HBP are grossly obsolete at this point. So just... disregard them both completely. Thanks.

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Three**_

* * *

"Potions on Mondays!" bemoaned Ron once he'd gotten a good look at his schedule. Harry and Ron were unpacking when Hermione stalked in with a stack of schedules in her arms. By the look of the set of her shoulders, Hermione looked none too pleased with Ron's method of relinquishing the schedules from her without her knowledge or consent.

Ron, typically, ignored her ire. "First thing in the morning, too! Gah," the redheaded freckled boy flopped out on his bed on his back, covering his face with both hands. "I _hate_ Mondays... I hate Potions..." With a sniff, Ron sat up and pouted. "Hex me now."

"Nah, don't think I will." The almost cheerfully said comment came from an outside source, and the nosiest students of Hogwarts found their attention riveted on the particular boy standing at the door. A duffle was tossed over his shoulder, and he was peaking into the room. "Say... You guys wouldn't mind rooming with someone like me, would ya? My old roomie said I was obnoxious, loud, and annoying, but I bet we could work our way around that!" Duo Maxwell was grinning widely, his eyes twinkling in mischief and mayhem. Ron shrugged. Harry waved to one of the unspoken-for beds.

"Knock yourself out."

Duo grinned and tossed his bag on the bed. "In the wise words of my roomie: Don't encourage me." His violet eyes peaked over at Ron, and he raised an eyebrow in a way that was shockingly familiar to Harry. "Why'd you want me to hex you, anyway?"

"We have Potions first thing on Monday," Hermione replied for Ron. She stuck out her hand in a no-nonsense manner, and Duo immediately grabbed it and shook. "Hermione Granger."

"Duo Maxwell. Isn't Potions Prof's class? Bummer..." The braided boy wrinkled his nose only slightly. "Sharp guy, funny if you can ignore the undercurrent and overcurrent insults... but Jesus, he's crabby."

Harry thought this description was superbly fitting. "You've met him already?" he asked. "I've never seen you before..."

"Holy cow! You're that wizard that was never called, aren't you?" Ron suddenly demanded, pointing. Duo snorted and walked over to his bed, dumping his possessions on the sheets.

"If that's how you define it, then yeah," Duo replied. "I spent all summer with Sevy and a lot of the other teachers. That's just enough time for me to summerize his personality: He's a decrepit old has-been that gets his jollies off of terrorizing and demoralizing students due to the nature of his mother withholding too many hugs from him as a child." He paused. "But he's an _awesome_ decrepit old has-been etcetera, etcetera." Then the braided-boy glanced at the two grinning boys and one desperately-trying-to-cover-a-smirk girl. "Sometimes it helps to remember that."

Ron was out and out laughing at this young man. "Oh, Harry! Can we keep him?" Harry snickered, shaking his head. He didn't even mind that Duo thought Snape was _awesome_, for some unfathomable reason.

"Feed me, cloth me, take care of me," Duo replied somberly, "and we might have a deal."

"I dunno, Ron," Harry replied doubtfully. "He's kind of high maintenance for you, isn't he?"

"Oh, pfft." Hermione intervened with crossed arms and a sly grin. "With your memory and my persistence, I'm sure we can keep the dear boy alive... until the end of the school year, that is." Hermione was once a stiff, slightly-obsessed and not-at-all modest young witch, but five years with Ron and Harry had changed her attitude somewhat. Sometimes she still reverted back to her know-it-all self, but that was simply because she almost DID know it all.

"Don't you mean your nagging?" Ron criticized, and he received a pillow in the face for his effort.

"Was it ever explained how your name wasn't put down?" Harry asked the braided boy, who had taken to sitting cross-legged on his bed, conveniently placed across from his own.

"Something about disorganization," Duo dismissed absently, his eyes on the window Harry often sat in at night or when he had nothing to do. "I was a little put off at first -didn't believe in magic and all this other mystical stuff, and my mom, who was apparently a witch, died soon after I was born." Drily, he added, "But even the most logical mind can't dismiss a little flicker of wood and a pow."

"So your dad was a Muggle?" came Ron's question. Harry didn't know how he could tell, but somehow that question was the line for Duo. His expression did not change to show his discomfort, nor did his amethyst eyes flicker. His posture, relaxed and lazy, did not tense, his constantly moving fingers did not stop in their play. When Duo's mouth opened, his words were not stifled, his tone not unwelcome or saddened or displeased. Harry was surprised to note that Duo replied with the same pleasantness in his voice as he did when he informed them that his mother died in childbirth.

"I've never met my father."

As Ron, Hermione, and Duo continued to talk about various other subjects ("Herm and Dad's told me about these tiny energy things smaller than a plug called bat adories or something-" "Batteries?" "Yeah, that. What can you tell me about them?" "Batteries are out of date, for one..."), Harry couldn't help but see a deeper meaning in the carefully phrased answer.

Seamus, Neville, and Dean soon wandered into their dorm and were introduced to Duo. The lights were turned by the prefects, Hermione left the boys dorm to turn in for the night, but a hyper Duo, an eager Ron, a giddy Seamus, a thoughtfully quiet Dean, a nervous Neville, and a subdued Harry continued on well into the night, until the full moon passed their window and provided no more light. Ron wiggled under the covers and pulled his red curtains closed. Harry sat in the window ledge, his eyes focused outward and passed the Forbidden Forest, the lights of Hogsmeade dimming as he watched. Dean, Neville, and Seamus disappeared behind their curtains, Seamus's goodnight echoed by Dean's reply. He heard Duo shift in bed, murmuring a cheerful goodnight. Ron replied the same, and Harry echoed with his own.

Harry did not hear the curtains of Duo's four-poster pull close. When he did crawl into bed, he saw that Duo hadn't done so. Somehow, the Boy Who Lived saw more significance in that than anyone else.

----------

"I swear! It's all true!"

"No way," pointed out a voice, and there were several agreeing murmurs around that point, "You had to have made that up."

"Hey, hey, are you forgetting who I am?" A jovial cheer raised from the mass. "I'm Duo Maxwell. I run, I hide, and I never tell a lie!"

"Wouldn't that have caused grievous injury? I don't see how anyone could have walked away from something like that!"

"Simple, Hermione-dear. The idiot gets me to cart him around easy-as-you-please, and as soon as I have him where he wants... the jackass sets his own broken leg! In front of me! _With his bare hands! _It was the single most disturbing anti-socialite behavior I've ever cared to see, and trust me, I've seen a lot!"

_Ugh. Too early in the morning,_ the lithe blond remarked to himself mentally, striding passed the raucous table with tired annoyance, _to tempt the Iffindorks into committing murder._ Not before the first cup of coffee, anyway. Oh, the humanity...

"And THEN," he heard in dramatic embellishment, pausing before adding solemnly, "he invented the fork."

There was barely a falter in Draco Malfoy's step as he glanced over his shoulder in feigned bland disinterest to catch sight of the Gryffindor bunch laughing uproaringly before disciplining the speaker with playful swats and disbelieving snorts. His interest lasted as long as the glance did -that is, not very long at all- as the strong smell of pitch black coffee drew his attention back to his Slytherins.

His Slytherins. He favored them all with a bored look, but in observing Pansy Parkinson speaking teasingly at the side of her mouth to Iva Moon and Blaise Zabini, who with the tell-tale twitches of his eyebrow and her lips signaled that they were attempting to hide smiles; in seeing Millicent Bulstrode, her back to the rest of the world, proudly smirking as Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe answered a school-related question with only a little uncertainty; in watching Malcolm Baddock gather his fellow years in strong, coded debate, his main adversary his best friend Graham Pritchard; he didn't have to stopper the pride and satisfaction of watching his Slytherins interact without the rest of the world to judge.

That was what the rest of the wizarding world did. A person was defined by his or her House, Slytherins would always be up to no good, and the sun will always set in the west and rise in the east. It didn't matter that others possessed such domineering traits that were all uniquely them, as well.

"Malfoy," Blaise said blandly from Draco's side, drawing his eyes away from the steaming cup in his hands to fix the other boy with a tolerant stare. Despite the coldness, Blaise met his stare with one of his own, his eyebrows yet jumping again as the two so-called 'in-House rivals' tried to stare the other down. Yet in this stare-down, the close friends were greeting each other as eagerly as any two Hufflepuff friends.

"Zabini," Draco drawled lethargically. "To what do I owe this pleasant if unexpected address?" Millie and Pansy exchanged looks that showed they could hardly contain their amusement. Any gossip mongers in the three other houses that would happen to look that way would see staunch up-sizing of two weary predators.

"Why, casual conversation, of course," Blaise murmured innocently. "Why else?"

"Indeed."

"So what do you think of our new little Gryffindor?" Blaise asked casually, flickering a gaze toward the mentioned table before staring back at Draco. Draco almost smirked; Blaise was a pretty boy and wasn't afraid to admit he prided himself on this. Very few succeeded this level of beauty; Cedric Diggory, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy himself, and -much to Draco's reluctance to admit- Harry Potter were the select few. With Diggory gone, Blaise only had to compete with Potter and Draco for better looks. Now it looked as if there was new competition in school in the form of their newest Self-Righteous Bastard Gryffindor (TM). Blaise was surely not pleased.

"This one has a sense of humor," the Malfoy heir couldn't help but admit in a low tone only meant to be heard by those of his own House. He succeeded in keeping his tone low enough when his entire year, listening on, gasped in mocking surprise as any eavesdropper looking on seemed disappointed.

"Surely you're having a lark, Draco," Pansy said with hidden mirth. "A Gryffindor? With a sense of... humor?"

It _was_ laughable. Gryffindors laugh and tease each other and other people, but they could rarely take what they dish, as concluded by a Gryffindor's quick temper and bloodthirsty need for revenge. Of course, this only applied to the only Gryffindors Draco paid attention to- mainly those of his year.

"Most like a Slytherin with a sense of honor," Blaise murmured from the corner of his mouth, drawing a reluctant smile from Draco. The Malfoy heir managed to make it look as forced as possible.

"I have a feeling," Millie whispered to Pansy, "that Mr. Maxwell is more than he seems."

"Very true," Draco agreed in normal, disdainful tones. "Why waste our time speaking of a filthy little Mudblood Gryffindor? You should go to the dorms and retrieve your books." He sneered at his two supposed 'thugs', who were worth more than any loyal Hufflepuff. The suggestion was laced with ugly scorn, but the suggestion was a real one, nonetheless. "I'll be in the Potions classroom."

Draco made his journey to the class alone, but content in is aloofness. Few students were mingling in the halls, reluctant to return to class or chatting with friends not seen since the ending of school. Three first year Hufflepuffs with a Gryffindor in tow were slowly wandering passed, oohing and aahing at the sheer size and beauty of Hogwarts.

Even the evil bastard in him had to admit grudgingly that Hogwarts truly was a stunning sight.

He was startled out of his slight amusement (disguised, of course, as baleful disdain) by a semi-familiar voice calling for him. Loudly. The sound of feet tapping down the corridor of the potions classrooms (few were reluctant to loiter these halls, and watching the other house students look queasy at the prospect gave him a laugh) caused Draco to hesitated for a moment.

"Blondie! Boy, for a moment there I didn't think you were going to wait up," remarked his caller casually. Draco cocked an eyebrow when he turned around; such a brisk pace from the Great Hall would bring most students to their knees, desperately drawing for the next breath; the young man in front of him wasn't even breathing hard.

He had suspected the identity of his caller correctly, though Draco had only heard his voice once. Duo Maxwell, new Gryffindor sixth year, stood boldly before him, brilliantly sizing Draco up with a quick glance that, for a moment, was unreadable. Finally an easy grin found its way to his lips as his entire face lit up. Draco thought it was a little odd the boy easily brightened in Slytherin company; maybe house standings had yet to be explained.

"When I saw you in the hall at first glance, I thought you only had a passing resemblance to him," the braided boy chuckled and assumed an air of pleasant nonchalance, "but you, dude, are a spitting image of Quatre Winner! It's cool..." Pause. "If not for the creep factor of Quat having a potential double running amuck."

Draco hadn't any idea what a 'dude' was, nor did he have any knowledge of any Quatre Winner. For a moment he was completely at a loss; he hid it well behind a wall of pleasant-but-not-particularly-caring demeanor.

"Well, it's better that I can tell the difference in your eyes and posture," Maxwell rambled on. "He's got these eyes... anyway, he's a bit more childlike, I guess; his face has a rounded quality that you've lost. Other than that, you both have this air about you that screams 'I am FILTHY RICH, so NYAH!', only yours is a bit conceited and Quat... Well, Q-Bean would think the deserts of Earth went dry because of him. I'm Duo, by the by. Duo Maxwell."

_That was a complete lot of NOTHING in a good waste of fifteen seconds,_ Draco thought nastily.

_Funny how he seems like a very amiable, bold, and completely un-Gryffindorish guy stuck in that house of hypocrites,_ he continued to muse, this time thoughtfully, _though the annoying cheerfulness fits the bill... if not the fact he's_ faking _it._ And Draco was positive the boy in front of him very well was faking his boisterous, bright attitude.

After a moment of reluctance, Draco surmised he should introduce himself as well. Manners demanded it. "Draco Malfoy."

Maxwell genuinely grinned this time. "THAT... is a really cool name."

That was a switch. Usually the Malfoy heir received funny looks, evil glares, The Look of the Scared Witless, or blatant indifference to the stupid name.

_Not sure I'm liking this new look,_ Draco thought queasily.

"So does every house hate each other, or are Gryffindor and Slytherin special cases?"

Draco couldn't stop the snort that sneaked passed his defenses. "Gryffindors certainly are special." Draco couldn't decide if that was resentment, disdain, sarcasm, or indifference in his voice. He surmised he shouldn't have shot for all four; he probably sounded constipated.

"Aren't they, though?" breezed Maxwell with a teasing grin. "They're okay, I guess. I kind of figured Slytherin would fit me better, though."

"The Sorting Hat usually chooses for the best," Draco pointed out pleasantly, but completely agreeing with Maxwell's assessment. Duo Maxwell, from where Draco stood, had absolutely too many hidden layers and well-honed hidden defenses –a Slytherin trait if the blonde boy had ever seen one.

"Pfft, sheeyeah, like A.D. let me try that damn thing after the incident with Fawkes," came the pouty reply. "It was more along the lines of drawing straws. After the debacle with the Draught of the Living Dead that lasted an entire not-so-fun week of the Sevy's Special Punishment and Total Persecution... and then the, err, scorching accident in Fillie's class... and you know that Sprout lady, the one with the seven greenhouses outside?"

Draco was afraid to know. "Yes?..."

"Well, she only has five now," the braided boy shrugged. "It all boils down to: the other three heads refused to take me, and as I have yet to screw up with Minnie... well, she got the short stick."

"You're kidding." His voice, tone, and stance gave nothing away as he stared at the boy with the impossibly long braid. Inside, all three of him were rolling in absolute hysteria.

"Unfortunately, nay. Hee-chan wasn't kidding when he said trouble was my conjoined twin," Maxwell said in a manner that suggested he didn't really mind. The boy paused for a thoughtful moment. "Well... can I confide in you?"

Draco was tempted to repeat "you're kidding" in deadpan, but the line was already overused. Anyone in their right mind and in possession of only their left testicle knew that Slytherins weren't above using 'confidence' in a **Slytherin's** best interest. He found himself nodding.

"Well, you know Minnie's tabby? I kind of turned it green," the braided boy admitted, fretting with his braid in a nervous manner. "Do you think she'll notice? More importantly, do you think she'll think it was me? She's been giving me these looks, and they don't exactly inspire the warm and fuzzies, if you catch my meaning..."

Draco Malfoy was renowned for his frigid disdain that could transform into amused contempt at the drop of a hat. In Slytherin house, he was known for his cool composure, his quick wit, and his foot-mouth insertion problem when in the company of others. It was safe to say that Draco Malfoy almost had control that could rival Albus Dumbledore himself.

All that control went to crap when Draco Malfoy, ice incarnate, doubled over and let out a loud, careless cackle.

_**End Chapter Three**_

**My reasoning for my version of the inner workings of Slytherin House: Saying "all Slytherins are bad" is like saying "all Gryffindors are good" -it's utter bullshit. Peter Pettigrew, anyone? Yeah, okay -sometimes it seems like all Slytherins are nasty little brats, especially in the HP books. HOWEVER, you never hear anything about the Slytherins that AREN'T nasty - Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode (she's only mentioned as a girl with a troll-like disposition, but nothing about how she is attitude-wise), Moon -and I'm only mentioning Moon because someone with the last name of Moon is mentioned to be a Death Eater, and there is someone named Moon who is in Harry's year, but what house he or she is in is never mentioned. That's almost HALF of the Slytherins in Harry's year that aren't overtly cruel in some form or another.**

**All Slytherins aren't evil, all Gryffindors aren't good, all Ravenclaws aren't permanently glued to a book (Luna Lovegood, anyone?), and all Hufflepuffs aren't useless.**

**I stuck Moon in Slytherin mainly because there aren't a lot of girls mentioned that are in Draco's year besides Millicent and Pansy. I'm not even sure if Moon is a girl to begin with.**


	4. Chapter Four

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Four**_

Severus Snape wanted to get one thing clear: he absolutely, positively _abhorred_ and _detested_ children. He hated the scent of sweat and outdoors the first years brought in; the adolescence of the second years; the moody third years; the disagreeable I-really-do-know-everything-and-you're-just-an-old-foggy fourth years; the hormone-driven fifth years; the hormone dripping sixth years; and lastly, the We're-almost-out-so-why-do-we-care? seventh years. He hated children when _he_ was a child, and he hated children even _more_ as an adult. So why did he accept the position of professor?

Simple.

Sinistra. Potion professor of old, she didn't like how the fumes from potions made her hair look greasy. As she knew about that thing with the guy in the _extremely_ questionable club in Naples -a thing Severus **never** wished to hear exposed to the light of day- he was blackmailed. Damn sly Slytherin hag. He satisfied himself with the knowledge Sinister Sinistra was going to come down with a bad case of diarrhea soon.

Severus managed to keep his cackling in check. Such rare moments of laughter needed to be bottled and saved for first through fifth year Hufflepuffs. They always made the best fearful whimpers.

_Thinking of laughter, is that... chortling I hear?_ Severus almost flinched in discontent at such a rare commodity polluting his humor-free hallway. It wasn't as if Severus couldn't take a good lark every once and a bit; he and Danforth were known to rival the Marauders in their wit, cunning, and pranking. Too bad Danforth died at the Dark Lord's feet; Severus sort of missed the idiot from time to time...

There was no reason for Severus to pay heed to such bitter thoughts, even though he felt it was in his justifiable nature to do so (though he didn't doubt many of his non-SLytherin students would beg to differ, but really, who cared about the opinions of small-minded dunderheads like them anyway?). There was irrefutable laughter... in **his** hallway! Oh the horror, the nerve, the complete inanity of it!... Severus clearly thought, as he had many times before, that he needed to start spreading the sarcasm and melodrama a little thinner when it came to his inner musings. Good insults and crabby emotions were wasted in his own mind.

When he found the source of the laughter, any action of looming and sullenly sulking-slash-glaring at the offender quickly flew out the window. Two boys ("Now, Severus, sixteen year olds are hardly boys," he heard Albus admonish in his head) stood in his hallway, one lost in petulant confusion as he scratched his head through his thick mane of chestnut hair, and the other doubled over, wheezing and struggling to get his giggles under control as his normally pale face flushed a rosy dusk in amusement, clasped eyes tearing, hair falling neatly into his face.

Severus Saris Snape had not had the privilege to witness Draco Julius Daemon Monroe Malfoy laugh so hard since his fourth birthday party, when Lucius Malfoy had incidentally become the victim of Jobblewokker Draught. That mirth had been celebrated by both Severus and Draco when Lucius, speaking unwillingly in nothing but pig Latin and periodically changing from spots to stripes to zigzags of varying color, stomped off to brew himself a cure.

It would be that brat, Severus conceded finally, staring long and hard at the new Gryffindor. Of course he could see the boy should have been sorted; even exchange students were sorted into the houses as any normal first year. His anger with the Draught of the Living Dead debacle... followed shortly by the Wolfbane fumes that engulfed his entire lab due to a little too much asaine... Well, it overshadowed his desire to have an extremely intelligent, cunning, and resourceful new Slytherin in his midst. At the time, Severus believed Duo Maxwell would have been more trouble than he was worth.

Yet the boy, no matter how troublesome, would have made such an excellent addition to his house. Severus' only consolation was that Minerva McGonagall, Ice Queen of the Tight Ass, would not stand for Maxwell's accidental brand of insolence. The boy had a fair chance of driving the old battle axe into early retirement.

"I did something stupid, didn't I?" sighed the braided boy in resignation. Maxwell certainly did stupid things; still, he was far from stupid. "Lay it on me hard, D-man. I can take it."

The youngest Malfoy managed to reign over his giggles, but his amusement clearly shown in his silvery eyes as he straightened and met the violet-eyed boy boldly. "Battle Axe McGonagall," Scary how his students managed to pick up nicknames he was positive he'd never uttered, Severus filed absently, "doesn't _own_ a cat, Maxwell."

Maxwell frowned. Brightened in realization. And he finally gained a sickened stance, wearily staring at the Slytherin student before him. "I turned McGonagall green, didn't I?"

Malfoy didn't reveal the fact he had been impressed with Maxwell's quick deduction. "Full marks for astuteness, Maxwell."

What? Wait, that explained that potion Minerva had requested through owl post. Severus almost grinned; there wasn't a chance that he was going to allow that old hag to live _this_ down.

Maxwell was beginning to look a little green himself. "I guess now isn't a cool time to think about what I did when I was practicing that shaving spell..."

Draco was shaking tremulously in a vain attempt to control his mirth. Snape felt something strange occur with his mouth; it twitched, slowly tilting at the corners until he had an almost full-grown grin, and he was a little put-out to realize he hadn't felt such humor himself in a long while. Was that a snicker that escaped from his throat?

Apparently it was. He found both boys facing him, he leaning casually against the doorframe of his classroom, arms and ankles crossed nonchalantly with a single raised eyebrow and a strange tilt to his mouth. The braided boy didn't look surprised at the intrusion; Severus was positive the boy had known he was there the entire time. Draco Malfoy wasn't quite so fortunate, and by the look in his eyes, he was probably going back to his fourth birthday party as well; it had been the last time he'd seen his godfather look so truly amused.

Severus found himself shaking his head. "Green and shaved... It explains so much that is the old codger and how she's been acting."

Draco caught himself smiling slightly, and the boy wiped it away instantly. His face set into his perfectly stone-cold mask, the boy corrected his stance; instead of pleasantly relaxed as he had been, the blonde Slytherin had conformed into his original stiff, up-tight posture. One would have never guessed there had been a change, Severus mused to himself thoughtfully, if not for the faint cords of content that lay behind the young man's stormy eyes.

Severus found himself taking a page from the younger man's book; it was effortless to slide his greasy-git Potions Master facade back into its firm place. It had been a constant expression for twenty years, after all.

"If the two of you insist on making nuisances of yourselves so early on a Monday morning," Snape sneered icily, "then I suggest you step in and reassess yourselves for today's lesson instead of crowding the hallway." The fact there were no other students in the deserted hallway didn't seem to detour the dark man at all. "Higher Entities know some of you need the study."

"Of course, Professor," Malfoy agreed amiably, gracefully sweeping down to place his discarded possessions from the stone floor and gliding into the classroom in one seemingly fluent motion.

Through the entire proceedings Duo Maxwell hadn't missed a beat. He grinned and shouldered his own belongings, never having fallen from his shoulders as Malfoy's had, and he slyly winked in the direction of his Potions Master. "Sorry, Prof, just having a little outer-house experience," he chirped in a tone that clearly read 'Oh bugger you, you old sod, and bloody well take the wand out of your arse'... but without all of the British denominations.

Malfoy stopped when he heard this explanation and had to scoff in amusement. "Oh, I see. So you arrested my progress because I have a nice arse?"

Maxwell was practically glowing in sensuality as he leered appreciatively through a slow analyzation of Malfoy's robe-clad body. "Correctomundo, amigo. You would be **killer** in a pair of low-riding, black leather pants with a mesh shirt."

"Ah," Malfoy said slowly. The blonde Slytherin, Severus noted, hid his ignorance well. _I should give the boy a cookie for his acting skills, _remarked his Inner Severus.

"Funny you should say that," the blonde boy went on, "because Zabini said the same."

A slow grin curled the corners of Maxwell's mouth as he finally took a step to enter the classroom. With a sly glance to Severus, the braided boy remarked casually, "As a forewarning -because I like you, y'know- D-man's going to rebel. Soon."

And Severus' treacherous mind whispered, _Very soon._ He could not help being pleased about it.

----------

"Where did Duo disappear off to?" Seamus said suddenly, startling the rest of the sixth year Gryffindors. Harry blinked owlishly, his eyes swinging to the seat the popular boy had once occupied. Sure enough, there wasn't a sign of the new Gryffindor.

"That's odd," Hermione remarked softly, barely heard above the sudden din of the rest of the curious house. Harry knew exactly what she meant; he was thinking the same. Duo might have been new to Hogwarts, but Harry could tell the boy was the sort that was outgoingly cheerful and naturally loud and noticeable. Clear rarities like the length and style of his hair and the amethyst tinge to his eyes, accompanied with his sparkling personality were supposed to be hard to ignore. How could a guy so casually entrancing, entertaining, and chatty as Duo Maxwell suddenly... up and leave without notice?

Seamus blinked at the empty space beside him. "Huh. Did anyone see him leave?"

Everyone within hearing shook their head in the negatives.

"You would think we would have noticed," Dean Thomas frowned. "One moment he's entertaining us with fascinating tall tales, the next he just... fades out? That's very strange."

"I wouldn't look too much into it," Ron replied, casually munching on a piece of warm toast smeared with a liberal amount of grape jam. "He probably went up to get his books or something. God knows I'd like a minute of composure to prepare for the Hell that is Snape's class," he added as a ruefully bitter afterthought, drawing snickers from both Seamus and Dean.

Harry glanced at Hermione for confirmation; both of them saw how Duo packed most of what he needed for Potions into his backpack, which he had carried down into the Great Hall for breakfast. Duo had been very precise in his packing while he readily chattered on and on about this and the weather and that and flying and greenhouses three and six having been taken out "through suspicious methods that might have conceivably had to do with some misfortune on my account. I'm sure it was an accident, whatever I might have not done. Who'd want to learn about a bunch of freaky plants, anyway?"

The sixth year Gryffindors were slow to head to class; they mingled lightly in the halls leading to the Potions dungeon ("Anyone **else** think it's so very _wrong_ to teach class in a dungeon?" Seamus had said moodily. Hermione replied with a swift "don't be stupid" and calmly explained that sometimes some ingredients reacted badly with sunlight, and sometimes fumes were too obnoxious to handle through the normal Hogwarts hallways. No one wanted to admit that Hermione had a point).

The five Gryffindors were dismayed to see Malfoy's watchdogs prowl down the hall in a stumbling gait, finally reaching the classroom and turning inside. "Great," Ron grumbled, "and where dumb and dumber go, the one with half a brain cell to share is bound to be nearby."

"He might already be gracing the classroom with his blond presence," an unfamiliar voice quipped, startling the four out of their dismay. The reason for the unfamiliarity of the voice was simple, and Harry was a little confused to realize: of the five years they had been attending Hogwarts, none of them had ever heard Blaise Zabini speak; at least, Harry was sure _he_ hadn't. It was a common myth that Zabini was either deaf, mute, or extremely anti-social.

Zabini's voice, whatever the case, was deceptively soft and musical. Millicent Bulstrode, another silent Slytherin, took up a place at his side. Zabini glided by the four without halting, Bulstrode trampling at his side like an elephant joining a panther.

Clear dusky eyes flickered toward the group, an odd expression of mixed disinterest and polite warmth painting those dark blue eyes mixed with amber orange. "Or Greg and Vince just fed him to the squid in the lake and they've come back for a round of celebrating with butterbeer and Snape," he added in the same unchanging, musical tone, an eyebrow lifting in something akin to amusement. An odd expression of closed-off interest flickered across his coldly pretty face as his mouth tilted into a small grin before adding, "You never really know."

The two least antagonistic Slytherins (missing their usual third, a plain-faced girl named Moon) seemed to lack venom when it came to speaking with any students at all; of course, they usually didn't speak to any student at all. _Is he... checking out–?_ Harry was too stunned to answer his own question, and quickly decided to shove it far, far away from his mind.

"What a weirdo," Ron mumbled when the quiet Slytherins were out of earshot, scowling at their backs with venom as the five _s l o w l y_ made their way to the Class From Hell. "Why does Dumbledore even put up with the lot of them? I say we save ourselves the trouble and toss them all out with a nice, swift kick in the bum for good measure."

"I'm sure Slytherins have purposes," Hermione insisted with doubt coloring her voice. "Though it's disheartening to know that it's a complete mystery."

"I find them kind of entertaining myself!"

Harry was startled out of his absent musings by the jovial voice that he'd grown so used to in just a day. "Duo!" he said, pleased that the boy hadn't actually disappeared into thin air. "There you are. You vanished on us."

The braided boy with the violet eyes was quick to grin, letting his chair land solidly on all fours before standing to meet his house mates. "I have a tendency to do that," he admitted proudly. "Actually, I caught sight of someone who looked damn uncannily comparable to a friend of mine. I had to go say hi and bug the crap out of him looking for any family quirks I could find."

"Did you find any?" Seamus questioned, placing his books and taking a seat in the back of the third row.

"Yeah, but not enough to really see if Quat and the dude are related." He blinked at the congregation of Gryffindors taking their seats in the back. "Why, exactly, are you guys all sitting in the back?"

"Snape," Hermione replied primly. "Every year since the first the guys in Gryffindor try to take all the seats in the back. Snape always spreads us out before taking ten points from Gryffindor for conspiring against a teacher."

The braided boy looked suitably impressed. "You can't say Sev doesn't do things by halves, can you?"

"Too bad that's one of the things he takes points off for that actually happens," Ron said resentfully, glancing around the class before uttering a groan. Draco Malfoy certainly haunted the dungeons already, along with cronies Goyle and Crabbe and the oddly silent Zabini and Bulstrode. Parkinson was no where in sight, but Lavender and Parvati had yet to show, either.

"I guess now isn't a cool time to admit that I have a shameless habit of flirting with him during class," Duo said with a lusty grin. The rest of the attending Gryffindors stared at him in uncomprehensible horror. "What? Have you _ever_ seen that man in a pair of well-fitting blue jeans? Snape has one sexy–"

"URGH!" Ron groaned loudly, clutching his stomach as if he was in pain. Dean and Seamus didn't look too well, either.

Suddenly Duo's expression changed minutely, as if he realized what was coming, and he began to shake his head and wave his hands, trying to get them to stop, stop, STOP you idiots, but they were too riled up to notice.

"He's **Snape**," Seamus moaned.

"His hair is greasy–"

"He's a poncy git-"

"A poncy _prejudiced_ git-"

"His nose takes up his entire face-"

"And he's like fifty years old!" Ron ended Seamus' and Dean's list of Why Snape Isn't Good Looking Even In Third World Countries, No Offense To Third Worlds.

"Potion fumes don't make my hair look so clean, either," Duo pointed out. "He acts like that because it's sickeningly obvious he hates kids, but he's been roped into a job that requires being around them a good part of the year. He's prejudice because, frankly, everyone else judges him and his house first, so I surmise he's trying to get in his first. His nose is a respectable Roman nose that looks very sleek on him, and he's going on thirty-six. It doesn't change the very apparent fact that Sevy has a very _sweet_ package under those billowy robes." He suddenly looked a little guilty as he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the back of his heels innocently. "Nor does it change the fact, erhm, that he's, uh, been standing behind you since 'Urgh'."

Harry, tense because he had also seen the same thing as Hermione and Duo had, slumped at his friends' horrified, pale expressions. His head fell against gravity, and he closed his eyes tightly before reaching under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Somehow he just KNEW he was going to be roped into whatever punishment Snape would deal out...

When Harry's emerald green eyes settled on the imposing figure of a disapproving Potions Master, he couldn't help noticing that Snape just might have 'a very _sweet_ package under those billowy robes.'

Oh, damn it all to hell...

_**END CHAPTER FOUR**_


	5. Chapter Five

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Five**_

"Potter's looking a little green," Goyle rumbled, having just queued into the spectacle the other four Slytherins were well-enraptured in. The tall, thick-looking 'thug' quietly folded the parchment he had laid out in front of him and hid it inside his pocket.

Draco had taken the time to watch this action, smiling minutely before looking back at the five mortified Gryffindors. That small smile turned into a well-trained malicious grin. "Short Fuse Weasley, Thick Witted Thomas, and Magical Disaster Finnigan were just listing all of Mad Master Snape's faults to Flirtatious Maxwell. Snape, sadly, had arrived just in time to, oh, hear just about the entire debacle." Draco knew his tone suggested this was far from 'sad', and the malicious grin turned true for a moment or two. "I expect Golden Boy's realizing just what a fine piece of eye-candy he has as a professor."

"I wish," Blaise huffed wistfully. If the Slytherin pretty boy had any designs on Potter anytime during their six years attending Hogwarts, Draco had never heard of it. The Malfoy heir was more or less putting Blaise's desire-filled tone to the school-wide bet questioning Potter's sexuality he had sacrificed ten galleons to.

There was a light chuckle that came from Millie. "Blaise actually had the courage to speak with the Gryffindorks two minutes ago," she said lightly, so different from her answering grunts served to so many other students that bothered asking her anything.

Maybe there **was** something to that idea of Blaise crushing on Potter... Draco's look was undefined as he corked a brow at his closest friend-slash-inner-house-rival.

Blaise only smiled mysteriously. "Today is a very good day."

Draco felt something spit fire in his ribs at the very _idea_ of Blaise having _anything_ to do with Potter. He covered it with an indifferent snort and a soft, "I bet," before he turned down to finish laying out his equipment before him.

Snape had been quick to dole out punishment to Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan, managing to include Granger AND Potter for failing to 'prevent the slandering of an upstanding Master of Potions.' Twenty points lost ("And five points from **you**, Mr. Potter, for failing to be a good role model for your fans.") the Gryffindors were _anything_ but cowed. They were almost feral in their anger.

"Snape's getting pretty creative with ways to take points away, doncha think?" Vince snickered. Draco snorted and nodded in amusement.

"I shouldn't have to continue to break up this little party back here in the first place," Snape sneered pointedly at the four Gryffindor boys. "Ten more points will be taken from your house for obviously not being able to learn from your mistakes. Now spread out."

The four seemed to almost argue, thought better of it, gathered their belongings, and dejectedly wove away from one another in search of seats that were approvingly far away from each other, but only **just**.

Draco practically heard the light of an idea flare to life behind the eyes of his friend. With slow, deliberate movements he picked up his packed belongings. "I believe I'll go keep a Gryffindork company," he drawled quietly, his eyes meeting Draco's searching gaze firmly before adding confidently, "Wish me luck, Malfoy."

Draco tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, unsure of what to make of Blaise's new boldness to Gryffindor. Finally, softly, he wished Blaise good luck.

The dark-haired boy nodded once jerkily, and for a second, composure was lost behind those sunset orbs, replaced by uncertainty, fear, and a healthy dose of discomfort. It all disappeared under snarky calm before he even turned around to stride purposefully toward the unofficial Gryffindor side of the room.

"What?..." Vincent asked himself, and then realization hit him only moments faster than it hit Greg. Millicent nodded firmly in affirmation, and the shorter, stockier boy nodded sagely. "Ah..."

"What?" Draco finally couldn't take _not_ knowing what everyone else seemed to pick up on. True, Vincent unusually perceptive for one who struggled so much in school... and Greg was typically three seconds behind Vincent... and Millie was Blaise's confidante and naturally knew any secret Blaise had... Well, no damn _wonder_ Draco was left in the dark. _Self-absorption-slash-pity does great things to a person's need-to-know status_, groused a voice that sounded freakishly like his mother. _That is, owning a reputation of being a self-absorbed, self-pitying prat too intent on misery to be entrusted with anything that needs to be known._

Oh, yes. Most. **_Definitely_**. Just. Like. Mother.

_So open your eyes, you little bratling, and SEE._

So Draco did. And he was quiet for a moment.

Oh.

Well, at least he'd been right about that crushing on a Gryffindor thing. And he supposed, with careful consideration, the person Blaise had calmly floated beside was rather roguishly charming and ruggedly good looking in his own way.

"Finnigan?" Draco questioned faintly, though it was more out of affirmation already given to Vince and Greg than an honest-to-God guess.

Millie nodded, a secretly amused look given to Draco. "Finnigan."

"Wait, what did we miss?" Iva Moon fumbled with her possessions on the other side of Millie, who had chosen a seat in front of Draco. She and Pansy, obviously, had made it just in time for class.

"An epiphany in the making," came Millie's whispered reply. Nothing else was said as class quickly began.

----------

Harry didn't know what to make of Zabini's sudden departure from the Slytherin side of the dungeon. A perplexed expression crossing Malfoy's face told Harry that Zabini's biggest rival for 'Best Looking Boy in Slytherin' was just as off-balance as Harry himself was.

"How cute," he thought he heard Duo murmur from the seat in front of him. The braided boy, too, was staring at Zabini as he nonchalantly claimed the seat beside...

No. _No_, Zabini had _not_ been checking out...

He almost whimpered in realization.

Zabini had.

Seamus Finnigan, confused glance at the calm Slytherin at his side, looked at Dean's questioning expression and shrugged his shoulders uncertainly. Oh, GOD, was Seamus suddenly _blushing_?

This time Harry didn't mistaken the sighed coo that came from Duo... and HERMIONE!

A flurried glance caught sight of the suddenly flabbergasted Draco Malfoy, staring at Zabini and Seamus. His lips moved and formed a question ('Finnigan?' Harry was sure he read) followed by a nod from Bulstrode's turned head.

Malfoy's face cleared, and he looked so... relieved. Relieved? No, Draco Malfoy should _not_ have been relieved at this dawning realization. Draco Malfoy should have been spitting fiery prejudice and foul tantrums left and right. Draco Malfoy should have been planning vengeance against anyone of his house having designs for a halfblood. Malfoy should have been coldly finding ways to _use_ this against both Finnigan and Zabini!

Stormy grey met jade green before the dark clouds moved toward the front of the classroom.

What the hell had that been!

"Interesting," Harry heard Duo whisper. He quickly averted his gaze, eyes landing on Duo... only to find the braided boy turned front, slumped in his chair... and head turned just enough to have a good view of Harry and Malfoy at the same time. A mysterious tilt of heart-shaped lips, and the equally mysterious boy was turned forward.

_What the hell?_ Harry wondered dizzily. His lost inquiry was left unanswered.

----------

"I've figured it out!"

Hermione dropped her quill, startled at the sudden exclamation in the silence of study hall. She blinked away her train of thought, fumbling to catch her quill before it fell to the floor as she stared at the one suddenly exclaiming things left and right. Well, it was only the once... but really! Hermione had never had anyone interrupt the entire study hall for something he'd 'figured out'.

Those equally curious by said exclamation looked toward the braided figure. The boy had stood up, dramatically puffing out his chest as he held his shoulders straight back, his chin in the air as he held up one single finger.

"Gryffindors," Duo announced finally, "suffer from lack of sex. You, my dear house mates, are uptight, self-righteous little know-it-alls that seem to get off more on adventure than down and out bunny lovin'. I should disown you all!" He served the shocked Gryffindors with a self-sacrificing look. "However, I've taken pity on you poor, sheltered souls. I've taken it upon myself to get you all laid. You'll be little nymphomaniacs by Christmas."

Duo Maxwell left study hall with great flourish. Hermione, under her humiliation and shock, was stunned by her house mate's declaration.

"Well," she heard a familiar voice say softly from her left. She turned to the table, surprised to see that Malfoy was staring at Duo's exit intently before glancing at Zabini. "That certainly was a surprise."

"Give it up for Draco, ladies and Slytherins," Vince cracked. "Master of the Obvious."

"That's **Mister** Moto to you, you great hulking thug," Draco murmured with a grin. Hermione nearly fainted at this uncharacteristic show of good-humor amongst the Slytherins.

"That Maxwell will certainly stir things up a bit this year, don't you think?" Pansy said flippantly, studying her nails with intensity that belayed her curiosity. "I mean- well, what do you see about him, Draco?"

Silence.

"You should work on this one right here, Pansy," Zabini said kindly, placing a soft finger unto something in her notes and tapping the parchment pointedly. "You're really weak around your protection runes, and you know those can come in handy."

"... Yeah," Pansy murmured. "Sorry."

Hermione tilted her head to the side minutely, allowing her wild hair to fall over her face. Beneath her veil she frowned in trepidation. What was going **on** in this school?

----------

"Hey, Sexy, I've found you a theme song!"

Oh, merciful gods both Muggle and Wizard... Severus Snape picked up his pace, hoping to all gods that this... this... _thing_ would catch the hint and. Back. The. Hell. Off.

No such luck.

"It's a bit old- hey, I might as well admit it's before the colonies were even dreamt of! But I think I'm going to sing it to you after I graduate from this fabulous institution of magic and witchery. Have I mentioned I was raised in a Catholic church? Do you have any idea what Catholics do to witches? Gallows come to mind. Pendulums. Iron maiden, the wheel, the fork... no, that's for heretics..."

Severus clenched his teeth and walked faster. Let it pass, he told himself firmly, let it pass. Don't react. It will only slow you down and allow the... creature... closer.

"Anyway, the song's by someone named Christina Havnohaira or something like that. It's called 'Fighter'. I thought it matched you to the T, sans the parts about you being romantically involved with me mainly due to age differences, but I bet we can fix that..." Lewd grin inserted here.

Hold your tongue, hold your tongue, hold your tongue...

"Do you _ever_ require oxygen?" Oh, damn it all. Severus whirled around to face down the grinning youth, the fire of Hell in his black eyes as he glared at the nonchalant Gryffindor. The braided boy remained uncowed.

"It'd be cool if I didn't, wouldn't it?" the boy murmured with a dreamy smile. "Maybe I wouldn't have had so many problems before..."

If Maxwell accomplished such a feat, Severus thought fearfully, the Potions Master would surely have to hang himself.

"Is there something you wanted, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Duo," the annoyance corrected happily, ignoring Severus' mounting irritation. "Nothing in particular. Just wanted to see what mad experiment you were up to."

"I see."

"Right. So?"

Severus was surprised he even bothered to stifle his tired sigh. "Nothing that concerns you, Maxwell. Are we through, or is the Spanish Inquisition still on?"

Maxwell, still with his infuriatingly easy-going smile firmly fixed in place, chirped, "Oh, so you _are_ familiar with medieval torture devices!"

----------

Two months flew by quickly enough as Duo settled down into a the routine of a normal student. Well, as normal as a student could be when he was suddenly thrust into a world filled with magic and other strange things that fairytales had only scraped the surface of.

Duo had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and the rest of the Gryffindor class one Friday afternoon on Halloween. It was there that he sorted out his carefully accumulated information.

Hermione Granger. He flickered a tiny smile at her over the table of potted belladonna and sekals, and she returned it with a soft smile and a nod of acknowledgment. Resident Hogwarts genius, notorious overachiever, known to break rules (but not very many), and had a tiny frizzy problem with her hair. It was rare that she let that mop of hair down, and even if she did it would still be to inform those of 'interesting facts' she had read in a book. She was all in all a clever girl... and the most likely to find out his secrets.

Ronald Weasley -not the brightest crayon in the box, but most seemed to think he had his heart in the right place most of the time. Brash, rude, and ignorantly sexist, the redheaded sixth son of a litter of seven was renowned to be a brilliant strategist if he cared for the subject enough -chess, Quidditch plays, etc. He was often overlooked in favor of his two friends; Duo made a special note not to make that same mistake. It was always the unassuming ones that got the braided boy in a tight fix.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, defeater of You Know Who ("No, I don't know who. Who what?"). Potter was celebrated as a hero, but the boy was both mortified and resentful of it. Mortified because, Duo surmised, he wasn't raised as a hero. From whispered rumors, Harry had been abused by his Muggle family, and he had never known of his hero status until after he was informed that he was a wizard. Harry was also resentful due to the fact that he believed he really had nothing to do with You Know Who's fall ("No! Who!"). He was only a child, after all. A little over a year old! He was, as Hermione, too curious for his own good. If Potter even scented a good mystery, he was bound and determined to somehow find himself in the middle of it. Yet the other boy did have something special about him; something Duo couldn't quite put his finger on...

Lastly there was Draco Malfoy, spoiled Malfoy heir, stinkin' filthy rich, and not afraid to flaunt his connections. Malfoy with the Lesser Evil Jerk of the school- as in, evil, but not as evil as the big cohuna himself. Duo was positive there was more to it than that; Malfoy wasn't all mudblood hate and snooty aristocratic attitude. Those cold grey eyes flickered with a burning emotion when his father was brought up. They shown silver with the mention of Harry Potter, and darkened to stormy clouds when there was utterance of You Know Who ("Oh, freakin' well forget it!"). He was so hard to read, yet so easy at the same time.

Potter would be the guy who would accidently stumble into a situation where his presence could make or break Duo's low profile. Weasley was, as of then, an unknown variant that required a certain amount of caution when dealing with him. Granger was most likely to figure him out, yes; but Draco Malfoy was most likely to keep his mouth shut about it until it could become of use to him. Everyone else was too wrapped up in the goings on around them to even give Duo much of a passing thought.

"Place your clippings into the containers and make sure to carefully seal the lip before putting your instruments away. Remember to clean up around your–"

The ground shook beneath their feet. Instinct kicked in. "Everybody under the table!" he demanded forcefully before the land quaked harder. Several students fell from the tremors before his directions could be acknowledged, and still some others stood in stupid confusion and fear. He yelled, "I said get under the damn table!"

Most followed his instructions... except Harry, Hermione, and some kid whose name he hadn't caught. Harry and Hermione also had themselves in Duo's balancing stance, wands out and held at ready. The Hufflepuff boy- Ernie something-or-other- stood in incomprehension.

"Mr. Macmillion, please-" Sprout started, motioning for the boy to follow the example of the other students. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Maxwell, please, under the table..."

A sealed plant fell and shattered against the ground, a brightly colored flower standing out against the dull grey-brown. Duo's breath sped up as he saw the flower, even with the still trembling of the ground that _was not_ an earthquake rocking him. It reared back, face pointing toward Ernie's back, and Sprout let out a startled denial.

Duo acted swiftly. When the tremors died down, students were slowly crawling from underneath the table, all whispering. When noticing their professor staring far off, they followed her look.

Against the wooden shelf bottom, the flower's stem had been severed. Poisonous needles left unloaded fell from the drooping opening of the flower. A dangerous looking dagger firmly pinned the flower's head to the baseboard.

"M-mr. Maxwell..." Sprout murmured. Duo felt the eyes of the entire class on him in that single moment. It hadn't mattered; he was staring out toward the south, his eyes drawn to the area just above the Forbidden Forest.

"There's a battle," Duo said softly. Students glanced uneasily toward each other. "Not far from here; just across the forest. I'm not sure..." Louder, he continued, "We should gather inside. I don't know if outside is the safest place to be right now."

----------

Most of the students had been herded into the Great Hall. Nervous energy mixed with fear and quiet confusion suffocated the air around him, and he felt as if he could physically choke on it. Dizziness rocked his mind, but he was determined to show nothing in the presence of so many that could use his weakness against him.

Draco Malfoy turned to his Slytherins. They were all stuffed in a corner, dark and foreboding to anyone who could even comprehend drawing nearer to them. Prichard and Baddock shared secret looks that were unreadable. Zabini had taken a casually relaxed position against the wall, arms folded up and behind his head. Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Moon looked disgruntled about the interruption of class, Pansy and Iva loudly complaining about how the disruption was ruining their carefully applied make-up while Millicent looked threatening in her own right.

Draco looked to Zabini. The boy smiled without humor.

"I heard a couple of Hufflepuffs sixth years whispering about Maxwell predicting whatever is happening," Zabini said lowly, words meant for select Slytherin ears only. "Apparently, word has it Maxwell nearly impaled MacMillion with a broad sword and almost succeeded, if not for the tumbling plant that had fallen in the way."

Draco rolled his eyes tiredly. Hufflepuffs. Since the death of their star Seeker and captain, they all felt as if everyone was out to get them.

"That's precisely what I thought," Zabini murmured. "However... I did notice a dagger on Maxwell's person. It was stained with rustic fluid when he came in with the rest of the Gryffindor menaces. I've only seen plant fluid that color from the Moria- a brightly colored flower resembling a Muggle sunflower with a snout. It shoots poisonous needles should it be disturbed."

"The trembling distressed it," Iva said knowingly. "Maxwell stopped it from harming anyone, and now due to his drastic actions, Hufflepuff -instead of thanking him for the great save- is alienating him for being a potential threat to an otherwise unpromising member of their house."

"That explains one part of the rumor," Pansy said drily. "What of the prediction? Could he have some sort of seering capabilities?"

"No," Draco said without hesitation. "Maxwell's simply unnaturally perceptive. We weren't outside, and even we could tell it wasn't a simple earthquake. The ground was shaking at intervals, as if heavy things were being slammed into the ground or blown up. He surmised a battle, and he followed his instincts accordingly."

"Yes, but _what_ could possibly be so big or powerful that we can feel the battle from here?" Bulstrode inquired.

"Voldemort?" suggested Graham, and Malcolm answered for them.

"No, not possible. Even if he is insane, Voldemort would not be so bold as to attack Hogwarts so early in the school year with the wards at their strongest," Malcolm concluded logically. "It's a suicide mission otherwise."

"Wait, could it be in Hogsmeade?" Pansy suddenly realized, and Draco recalled Defense Against the Dark Arts, where the Slytherin sixth years had been when the quaking began.

"No, it's some ways west from Hogsmeade," Draco finally decided. "I wouldn't be surprised if they suffered from much more damage from it then us, but it should be relatively safe unless the 'battle' moves."

----------

"Oh, _no_..."

Duo interrupted his own analyses of the situation to turn his attention to Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, narrowing his eyes slightly at their frustratingly horrified expressions. He saw their problem when he noted the absence of the dark-haired Boy Who Lived.

"He always does stuff like this," Weasley exclaimed in a low voice, frustration echoing from his tone to his face. "He never seems to invite us along anymore! He just up and leaves... Doesn't he know he could get hurt?"

"Just as we can if we're with him," Granger sighed tiredly, rubbing her forehead. "You know he doesn't want a repeat of Cedric..." They were both silent.

"Tell me Potter did **not** go looking for the source of the quaking," Duo deadpanned. Dread overcame him at the expressions on their faces. "Oh, for the love of GOD!" He began stomping for the giant doors, his face a dark cloud, when a hand landed on his shoulder. It took him all he had to hold back the automatic response of wielding the dagger and...

"Where do you suppose you're off to, Mr. Maxwell?"

Oh, figures. Snape.

"To find an idiot with a terrible haircut," Duo bit out. Snape physically turned Duo around and non-to-gently shoved him in that immediate direction.

"I do believe Weasley is that way," said the Potions teacher coldly. Duo looked him in the eye.

"Potter's gone."

Snape met his gaze for a moment before averting his gaze to Duo's neckline. "Dumbledore is preventing anyone from going out to look for him."

Duo heard the cold disdain in the Potions Master's voice. "He thinks he can improve Harry if he allows him to do dangerous things."

Snape met his eyes again. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Maxwell. Now join your house. Dumbledore will soon be sending out the Potter Hunters after he's sure the brat's gotten his experiences' worth."

----------

_No!_

_What are you doing? There's a town here!_

He jerked his damaged Gundam, panting heavily as he led his pursuers away from the village. He saw people swarming into the streets, brightly colored clothing pinpointing their location as they shaded their eyes with hands. Some pointed up frantically; others stood there, aghast.

_Can't you see them? You waited until we were out of civilians' eyes to attack; why continue over this village?_

The cockpit shook and cracked as a beam cannon caught his back. God, no... his thrusters...

One pilot would say the Gundam was equipped with an advanced cloaking device. The other pursuer would insist the hated machine disappeared from mid-crash. The stunning truth of it was that, as soon as the Gundam Sandrock began its descent into the dense foliage of the forest below -with neither pilot feeling the particular urge to enter such a malevolent forest- it shimmered and vanished.

----------

Harry heard it before he actually saw it. A strange hissing, like pressure escaping into the air or the sound of fire being doused with cold water. Perhaps it was a mixture of both for what he knew; all he saw at that point was the damage that had been wrought on the Forbidden Forest. Trees had fallen, roots had been torn from the ground, and what little foliage there had been was smoking in burnt crisps of blackened leaves. Ahead of him he could see something blocking the path, huge and imposing and ominous... A giant?

He drew in a harsh breath when he could finally see it.

A robot.

A huge, hulking, horrendous robot colored gold and white trimmed with black. It rested on one knee while the hand that would have been rested against the rocky, hard soil was only left with electrifying wires and cords; the hand had been severed. The knee standing off the ground was badly damaged, the metal blackened around the gaping hole wires fell through. The gem-like chest was open, gaping, though it wasn't a 'wound'; he could see the darkened cockpit from where he stood, frozen in shock.

He looked at the scorched ground and choked. At the feet of the machine lay a body.

Harry hurried forward, his cloak wrapped firmly around his body before he kneeled beside the body, his teeth chattering in anxiety. Slowly he reached out, feeling the soft hair and noting the pale skin...

Malfoy? What was he doing?...

No. No, not Malfoy. But the resemblance from behind was uncanny. Hair almost as pale and bright as the sunlight, skin porcelain against the black earth, he was on his side, back to Harry. Gulping, the Boy Who Lived placed an invisible hand on the thin shoulder.

The body moaned. Harry's breath quickened, hope coursing through him as he slowly turned the figure onto his back. The first thing Harry noticed that, if not for the childlike roundness of his face, the boy would be Draco Malfoy. As it was, the other could pass off as Malfoy's double.

Eyes opened to reveal dilated teal eyes. The unfocused eyes narrowed and stared just passed Harry's shoulder.

Harry licked his lips nervously. "Hello."

Eyelids lowered slowly before inching back up in a move to focus. Harry didn't think the other boy would reply until he managed a thin whisper of a greeting.

----------

Duo wasn't terrible at Divination. In fact, he'd like to say he was pretty good despite the disagreement of the local 'Seer', Professor Trelawney. However, Duo felt any 'Divination' skill he had was more intuition and thinking ahead than real fortune telling.

Duo could tell that if he continued his course of action, he would be lynched. Badly. By his own house. In deciphering this startling 'vision', he surmised he had gone a little too far with the knock-knock jokes.

He went in search of a more appreciative audience. The Hufflepuffs practically shunned him with suspicious and fearful glares. The Ravenclaws stared at him impassively, and Duo didn't think he'd made a good impression on that house by mocking their star Seeker. Most of Slytherin House looked downright hostile... all except for the small group in the corner...

"With an atmosphere like this, who needs funerals?" he said off-handedly when he appeared beside a girl he was unfamiliar with. He smiled widely at her. "Hi."

She blinked. "Hello."

"Nice weather today, ne? 'Course, with all the 'shut up!' and 'argh!' and 'Die, Spawn of Satan!' I'm picking up on my Duo Maxwell Has Inspired Homicidal Tendencies Again O Meter, I say rain is heading in from the north."

The pretty boy against the wall allowed a small smile of acknowledgment. "Does it always rain when friends seriously consider murdering you?"

"Oh, no; that's just a prediction," Duo chirped. "I've always got a friend or three ready to strangle me at any given moment. Makes me feel homey. Speaking of people looking ready to commit murder, where are Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"They've escaped to the kitchen, no doubt," Draco Malfoy replied with a tired roll of his eyes. "Maxwell."

"Malfoy. Hey, have you noticed our initials are the same?" Pause. "You can spell 'moral' with some of the letters of your name, too. That's gotta be a waste." A grin should his jibe was in jest.

"And with yours, lewd. Well, at least one of us is accurate," drawled the aristocrat, cocking an eyebrow curiously. "If you're saving yourself from murder, you certainly are going about it the wrong way. The Weasel looks like he could smother you with a pillow."

"Oooh, kinky." Duo hid a smile at Draco's expression; the other boy didn't know how to touch that one, and wasn't even sure he wanted to. "I'm not over here to win points. I'm over here because I've exhausted Gryffindor humor, Hufflepuff patience, and Ravenclaw wit. If I'm going to roll on the bad side, by Bob I might as well roll on everyone's bad side."

"How thoughtful," the pretty boy murmured with a wider smile. "It seems our analysis is incorrect; it's not the Hufflepuffs alienating the Gryffindor. It's the Gryffindor estranging himself from everyone else."

"Aw, I'll always have you guys," Duo replied in mock tearfulness, wiping at an imaginary tear running out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, pause. Rewind. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Duo Maxwell. I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie."

"Blaise Zabini, Iva Moon, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Graham Pritchard, and Malcolm Baddock," Draco pointed out lazily, ticking off on his fingers as he went. "The Tweedle twins are Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe."

"Eh, it's a pleasure," Duo chirped with a wide grin. "So what's this little group gloomin' and doomin' about? Pretty ladies and handsome fellows shouldn't be wearing those frowns." To Pansy, he said knowingly, "It adds ten years to your life, did you know?"

"I did not," Pansy said with one of her Secret Looks, "but I thank you for informing me."

"That's me," Duo cheered. "Preserving the beauty of women everywhere. You think they give medals for that?"

Blaise grinned. "Are you mental? Complimenting Slytherins is a hangin' offense, Maxwell. It might just add to our already humongous egos, therefore fueling our inner ids."

"Oh, speak not of any execution to me, Mr. Blaise Zabini," Duo shivered melodramatically, placing the back of his hand against his forehead and holding a forlorn pose. "I, too, have almost met a tragic end. Trapped in a prison of a dastardly Muggle organization set to rule the universe, I was merely hours away from my... Sob... scheduled prosecution by such a barbaric method. It was only through the determination of my partner that I escaped with barely any dignity intact..."

"Have you ever gotten the feeling you overdo it sometimes?" Iva murmured with a reluctant smile, Millie and Pansy giggling behind their hands while Graham and Malcolm swooned mockingly at Maxwell's apparent 'bravery under pressure.' Blaise and Draco exchanged strange looks that Duo barely had time to read before both boys' attentions were back on him.

"Overdoing it would be to tell you I thought my partner would kill me in my cell, the pretentious bastard," Duo proclaimed matter-of-factly. "I even told him I was destined to be killed by him. Sounds ridiculous when I actually think about it, but every now and then I'm expecting him to pop up and get me killed some way or another."

"Actually, that would be blowing exaggeration out of proportion," Blaise murmured lightly, "if we thought you were lying."

Duo blinked. "You mean you're actually taking me seriously?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Wow, that's a rare commodity. Usually it's something along the lines of 'shut up, Duo, stop blowing things up, Duo, Duo, put down that detonator, no one is taking you seriously, Duo.'"

The Great Hall doors flung open at that moment, revealing a disheveled Boy Who Lived, a smaller carbon copy of Draco Malfoy supported against his side. Half-aware teal eyes blinked open weakly, and the other's eyes immediately honed in on the staring braided Gryffindor.

Duo recoiled as if he'd been bitten, staring. "Q-Quatre?"

A small smile graced the other boy's lips before those eyes closed and the small body slumped silently against Harry Potter.

----------

_**END CHAPTER FIVE**_


	6. Chapter Six

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Six**_

He awoke in a hospital. At least, it looked like a hospital. Bottles and vials of brightly colored liquid stood glowing on a shelved wall. Medical books were quietly resting in a miniature bookcase in a corner. Empty beds made with crisp white sheets lay side by side in a long row, partitions folded back as prepared shields. His head was only slightly fuzzy, but otherwise his supposedly broken ribs, sprained wrist, and particularly dangerous concussion were numb to him. Once he had a moment to feel, he even went as far as to suspect his numerous injuries had been miraculously cured.

The presence beside his soft bed drew his attention. The braided apparition smiled softly as a hand drew a path across his forehead.

"Hey, sleepy-head," teased the ghost, "feeling better?"

Quatre Winner blinked up at the shadow, feeling his throat tighten at the sight before him. "Oh, Duo..."

"Are you tearing up, Q-Bean?" said the phantom teasingly. "Nothing to cry about. I'm here."

Quatre swallowed his tears and gave the boy a watery smile. "They told us... the others thought... I couldn't feel..."

The hand tracing patterns on his forehead paused. "Who told you I was dead? Bastards," he claimed calmly before resuming his calming touch. "I'm sorry. Things have been so hectic lately. I didn't even think to get in touch with you guys."

"A 'hey, I'm alive and kicking' postcard would have been nice," Quatre murmured softly, "but I'm relieved you're all right, all the same."

Duo Maxwell grinned. "How are _you_ feeling?"

"Amazingly well for someone with broken ribs, a sprained wrist, and a concussion."

Duo chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty much what Nurse Poppy diagnosed. She fixed you right up, though, so you haven't got any problem other than dizziness. From exhaustion, apparently." The braided boy cocked an eyebrow. "Have you been overworking yourself again? Q, we seriously need to have chat about your tendency to break your back while bending over backwards."

Quatre's smile died a merciless death on his lips. "I haven't g-gotten much sleep..."

"Quatre?" Duo sounded alarm. Quatre felt his heart weigh with regret and he swallowed his sadness. Duo had to know.

"It's... Duo, they're calling for the Gundam pilots' persecution. The colonies, the people of Earth, everyone except Lady Une and her followers are demanding our heads on p-pikes. Lady Une tried to protect us to the best of her abilities, but we've... I was separated from the others, I don't know..."

Duo had lost whatever color he had in his face at Quatre's news. "But why? We... Damn it, we _saved_ them! We helped them, we...! How could they do this to us!"

"They're frightened," Quatre explained in a whisper. "They don't know what to do with us. They think children with such dangerous abilities... shouldn't be allowed to grow into something potentially more dangerous."

"Those ungrateful Muggle _trash_! I can't believe I defended them in the first place, and the colonies against us! Should've let them all become enslaved! It would have saved us the hell!"

"Duo, please calm down! They're frightened, and they don't think we–" Quatre stopped and clasped his lips together helplessly.

"They don't think we're _human_. Go ahead, Quat. Lay it down like it sounds." The braided boy was out of his seat, and Quatre watched him with wide eyes as the other bent over him in an unknowing but intimidating manner. Anyone who didn't know Duo Maxwell as well as Quatre did would have cowered before him.

"We're a subspecies because we're all products of outer space, is that right?" the violet-eyed demon hissed angrily. "And the colonies don't want anything to do with a bunch of mass-murdering, remorseless, cold-blooded killers who would dare attack OZ in the name of them! Let's do the ultimate witch

hunt! Let's stalk them down and take justice into our own hands! Is that it?"

"Duo, please..."

"They think we feel nothing for what we've done! They're wrong! They're _wrong_!"

The windows of the infirmary exploded into shards of colored glass. Quatre would have dived off the bed and tilted it over for protection under an impending attack... if he hadn't felt the power come from _Duo_.

"There isn't a night that goes by that I don't hear the screams of dying men echo in my mind," the braided boy whispered furiously. "I hear screaming children begging for their mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers. I hear old parents mourning the death of their child! The crumbling of demolished buildings, the explosives I detonated myself with the simple push of a button! I hear these things and I mourn for them and I want to _die_ because of it! And every night Sister Helen asks me in her dying breath why I deserted them in their final moments. Father Maxwell's ghost comes to me and whispers prayers for my condemned soul, and Shinigami stands silently behind me, beckoning for all who come too close to me to come with Him." The voice, having raised in fury, died in a broken whisper. "And Solo demands why I hadn't died a martyr like he had done; we were together forever, Solo and Kid, and I would have died slowly and painfully to spare him his agony."

Quatre, tears streaming down his face, wordlessly opened his arms to the broken teenager; Duo accepted his invitation without hesitation, burying his face into Quatre's soft, thin shoulder, shaking in contained sorrow.

"I see the disappointment for my violent choice to end OZ's tyranny in my father's face as he dies," the blond boy whispered, heart-broken. "And I can hear the dying screams of the innocence I have stolen away from the colonies I've destroyed in saddened fury. My mother sings me lullabies until my weariness is gone, until her singing stops. And still it holds no candle to the misery you -all of you- radiate for days on end.

"But Duo, Duo, you hold your innocence so well–"

"I have no innocence," the boy rasped.

"You do," Quatre said with a sad smile, tangling his fingers through the other's braid. "You do, Duo. That's what makes you special. No matter what world-weary events that have occurred in your life, you will always hold that small speck of something that makes your soul less blackened than you think. We all do. And we'll always have that. No one can take it away from us without our explicit permission."

Both were silent for a moment. Then Duo smiled into Quatre's shoulder and lifted his head minutely to eye the blonde from the corner of his own eye.

"If I'm an innocent," Duo said heavily, "you're a bloody saint."

They both chuckled.

"Not one of us is higher than the other," Quatre said after their laughter died down. "Always remember that. You and I are equals, as we are equals to even Heero, Trowa, and Wufei."

"If you keep telling me this," Duo said softly, "I think I'll start considering it."

"Well, consider yourself constantly reminded."

----------

Neither boy inside the infirmary noticed the two opposites listening from the outside. One's hand covered the other's mouth to prevent interruption, but there was no need; the other was just as curiously stunned as the one.

Slowly one removed his hand and waved the other in the opposite direction. Draco expected a fight from Potter, so it was surprising that the Boy Who Lived followed without question.

"What was that?" the Boy Who Simply Couldn't Die asked himself ponderously, staring into the distant moon as if looking for answers.

"An emotional breakdown due to betrayal brought about by ignorant Muggles of the panicky variety, I would say," Draco drawled in reply, drawing an irritate glare from Potter.

"But didn't you hear them? Duo said he–"

"Something about being a blood-thirsty killer without feelings, yes?" Draco replied dully, rolling his eyes at Potter's shocked countenance. "Yes, well, that was the general populace's belief, if you recall. Clearly, he does regret what he's done in his life. A little too much, I should say. Doesn't he know bitter guilt such as that lead to kamikaze postal workers and the like?"

Potter stared at him incredulously. "This is serious, Malfoy!"

"I'm well aware of that," Draco snorted. "However, don't you think Maxwell would have been kept from this school if Dumbledore even suspected that Maxwell could be a threat to us? I may not think much of the old codger, but I'll say this much: that man is a crafty old fart."

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy. Though I'd much prefer the term 'artful but respectable older gentleman.' It has a certain ring of respect, don't you think?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up as he was suddenly facing the headmaster over Potter's shoulder.

Draco grimaced. Oh, wasn't this just grand?

Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes studied the blond boy with an oddly amused smile. "Indeed. I do believe it would be imperative for the two of you to return to your respected dorms. I believe I need not emphasis the importance of keeping this entire situation from prying ears."

Draco stared expressionlessly at the headmaster. _Does he really expect Potter to keep this secret from the dastardly duo? Of course, I suspect Potter is thinking the same as me at this moment. _Otherwise, after a long, considerable pause, Draco slowly nodded his consent. Potter's head bobbed absently, a strange suspicious look flying toward Draco from the corner of those wide, green eyes. _And give the smart little Slytherin a treat._

_Bloody Gryffindors_.

"Excellent," Dumbledore cheered, smiling an enigmatic smile before shooing the two of them away. "Off you go then. Have restful nights, the both of you."

The two continued on the same direction without much of a word to each other until they came to their separate paths. Potter hesitated from the stairs up, turning to give Draco a warning look. "Malfoy-"

"The same to you, Potter," Draco sneered before beginning his descent, not allowing the green-eyed boy a chance to reply.

Things just got a little more interesting.

----------

Quatre watched the odd golden ball's fluttering wings in awe, holding his hand toward the darting object with slow, delicate ease. Amazingly enough, the Snitch deigned it worthy to hover over the small blonde's calloused hands. It came to rest softly in his cupped palm.

"It's so small," remarked the boy softly, his eyes lifting to meet the laughing violet gaze of his friend.

"It's from a game called Quidditch," Duo replied with a wide grin. "Very popular sport here. Not generally a fan of sports, but the broomsticks are just awesome. There's a game in three weeks, too! If Madam Pomfrey lets you out of the infirmary before you're twenty, maybe you can come."

Quatre smiled at his friend dazedly, still reeling from the fantastic tale Duo had woven for him; fantastic, however, very much real. Duo had proven this much with a simple flick of his stick -_wand_- to cause a delicate crystal glass filled with an odd blue liquid to... levitate.

Once the container was safely on the solid shelf, a harried woman in a nurse's outfit had appeared behind Duo to pop him non-too-gently on the back of his head.

"Mr. Maxwell, need I remind you that your wand is NOT a toy, and the infirmary is the farthest thing from a PLAYGROUND!"

"Ow," Duo had groaned softly, clutching his head. "Jeez, Poppy! Doncha know that's soft territory?"

"More like cemented, it is," defended the nurse hotly before moving into a blocked off section of the medical wing.

"She loves me," Duo had commented with a pleased grin. Quatre had humored him with a barely serious nod.

"We can send them owls," Duo pondered to himself out loud, startling Quatre from his own musings. "Owls can freaking well find everyone, I think. Grab an owl, give it a letter, tell the owl who it goes to... yeah, an owl can find 'bout damn near anyone."

"Are you sure owls can find those three? Especially Trowa; he's too good at blending in," Quatre fretted quietly.

"Hey, found me, didn't it? Granted, Trowa's into uber-espionage, but I'm confident the super-smart delivery owls can find Trowa. Plus: animal magnet." Duo's grin dampened a little. "It's the other two I'm worried about. Heero will sooner shoot an owl than let it near; Wufei would ignore it on the general sense of it being an oddity."

"Well, you can always send this friend of yours a howler," came a drawling familiar voice from the doorway. Duo blinked and glanced over his shoulder at the cool icy blond Slytherin. "Howlers are certainly hard to ignore."

"Remind me what a howler is," Duo jibbed, and Malfoy smirked slightly.

"A form of letter used to reprimand the recipient through public humiliation in the form of a red enveloped letter that adopts the voice of the sender and reads itself aloud in the tone of said sender's express anger, resentment, disgust, disappointment, and so on. It's very useful when attempting to put one of the many Weasleys in line. May I see that?" Malfoy suddenly requested, pointing to the golden Snitch resting in the palm of Quatre's hand. Wordlessly Quatre held it out to him.

"Wicked," Duo commented in awe as the Snitch tried vainly to dart away before Draco's fingers could close in around it. Draco's hand snapped forward automatically and snatched it in mid-flight. "You'll have to help me with that sometime."

"Is there something wrong with it?" Quatre asked curiously, watching the stranger study the golden winged-ball intently for a moment before opening his palm. The Snitch immediately fluttered to Quatre and nestled into the many folds of his hospital gown.

"There shouldn't be," Draco said offhandedly, staring at the strange ball with an oddly closed look. "I've never seen a snitch act as if it's an actual animate being craving for human attachment and comfort. I've certainly never seen it actively seeking out any form of being like it has at this moment."

Quatre nodded, his brows drawn together in a furrow before clearing as he looked toward the stranger. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Quatre Rebarba Winner. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Draco Malfoy," he replied smugly, nodding his greeting toward the bedridden blond boy. "Likewise."

Duo glanced between the two guiltily. "That was the part I was supposed to do, wasn't it?"

"I'm sure you were occupied with more important ponders," Quatre said with a secret smile.

Draco snorted. "More like he was too busy plotting the immediate harassment of the unfortunate howler recipient."

"You're too kind," Duo said sarcastically.

"There's something I never hear uttered when spoken of," Draco smirked. To Quatre, he explained haughtily, "I'm not very well-liked. Some would go as far as to say I'm outright cruel and unjustly prejudice against those who aren't me."

"Don't forget vain and pompous," Duo chirped.

"Yes, and who can forget that?"

Quatre smiled at both of them serenely. "Oh, I'm sure there's more to you than that, Mr. Malfoy."

"I hope you aren't willing to bet galleons on it, Mr. Winner."

"And I hope you utter rejects don't keep this 'mister' stuff up, or Mr. Maxwell will be forced to take Mr. Magic Stick and shove it up collective Mr. Piehole." Duo rolled his eyes. "The both of you are almost seventeen years old. Grow _down_, people!"

"Shall I regress to the mentality of a common plebeian, or are you simply requesting more familiarity with a peer I've just recently become acquainted?" Draco sneered, almost polite in his ridicule.

Duo flexed his fingers. "Right. Will it be my magic stick or your magic stick?"

"Your magic stick with preferably your so-called 'piehole'."

Duo stared incredulously. "I can't believe you... You just told me to go-"

"Duo!" came the startled admonishment from Quatre, who'd been listening to the conversation with sick fascination one would fix on a car wreck.

"-myself with my wand without losing that freaky aristocratic I Am Better Than You Therefore I Shan't Resort To Plebeian Insults attitude!"

Draco's glance said it all. "This means what in the language of your people?"

Duo... _swooned_. "My Heero!"

Quatre took pity on Draco when he noted the feeling of confusion coming from the taller blond. "Duo appreciates anyone who can cooly tell him he's something of an idiot without outright saying it. Though sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, it's Duo's favorite form."

Expressionless eyes met Quatre's for a moment. Quatre knew the boy was slightly surprised and a tad suspicious, but the Winner heir couldn't fathom why.

"The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor must be paradise," Malfoy surmised with a slight smirk. "Slytherins thrive on sarcasm."

"And the use of it with Gryffindors short tempers. The compound's very explosive," Duo chimed with a grin. "Which, when you think of it on a totally insane level, is ironic considering we have Potions together."

"I'm positive Professor Snape is damning your theory as we speak," Draco added calmly.

----------

Severus Snape, feared Potions Master of Hogwarts and all around most hated man that made this lonely corner of the Earth his home, relaxed in a chair commonly seen on the white sands of beaches, sipping a rather colorful beverage with a small umbrella as he carelessly reached for a meticulously written sixth-year summer essay. He merely glanced at the name on the paper before balling it up and nonchalantly tossed it into the direction of a garbage can.

It neatly bounced off of the orange and white hoop-and-net set above the can. He "Hmmm..."ed before easily marking, "Zabini, Blaise" a B.

Some would disagree with his method of grading... that is, if he ever let onto his method of grading, which was unlikely in the sense of Voldemort renouncing violence and joining Ms. Queen of the World in her urge to spread complete pacifism. While on the subject of Ms. Peacecraft, he couldn't help but note that only a teenager could attempt such an impossible and foolish goal.

Absolute Peace. Yeeeaahh. Right.

He took another essay into his hand, glanced at it, snorted, balled the parchment up, and tossed. Honestly, he wasn't even _aiming_ for the damn can and the bloody thing still went through the hoop with an audible whisk. "Granger, Hermione", yet another A.

Damn Fate. Or O'Toole; Severus thought it was only fair to damn Murphy while he was at it.

Then he evilly marked a minus beside the A. He really couldn't allow a Gryffindor know-it-all to get a leg up, could he? It wouldn't mold with his "I Could Care Less About Your Puppy Dying And Your Mother's Bout Of Chronic Illness This Summer, It Doesn't Give You The Excuse To Fog Up Homework" persona.

Another paper. Another snort. Another shoot. This time the essay slammed into the backboard and bounced away from the trash can, useless. "Weasley, Ronald" earns an ugly C-.

He relaxed into his beach chair, margarita in hand, and sighed.

Ahh. Life was far from wonderful, but... it was acceptable.

_**END CHAPTER SIX**_


	7. Chapter Seven

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Someone has inquired as to why the G-boys are still in possession of their Gundams when said Gundams were supposed to have been destroyed after the Mariemeia Incident (aka _Endless Waltz_). That's actually easy to answer; my fic starts off in the summer of AC 196. That's before _Endless Waltz_ (which is set during Christmas, AC 196), while the Gundam pilots still own their Gundams. If you remember, in the beginning of Endless Waltz, all of the Gundam pilots save Wufei had planned to send their Gundams to the surface of the sun in order to destroy them. They didn't actually destroy their Gundams until the end of the movie. That means they still had their Gundams for a full year after the end of the first war; at least, I have a vague recollection of Lady Une commenting that the first war had reached its end sometime around Christmas of AC 195. It was such a climatic event that a lot of people forgot to celebrate Christmas.**

**Basically, _Endless Waltz_ hasn't happened yet; in fact, it's not going to. In this fic, the Earth Sphere Alliance is practically demanding that the Gundam pilots be punished for their acts of terrorism, when in the _Endless Waltz_, it's very clear that the Gundam pilots were cleared of all charges due to their war crimes.**

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Seven**_

* * *

****

It was a big day for Quidditch practice, proven by none other than Katie Bell as she methodically drove the standing Gryffindor team into the ground. If Harry thought Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson, graduated captains and ex-residential slave drivers, were strict, Katie was Satan.

A bludger came close to bludgeoning his ribs into the Slytherin stands. He managed to dodge with minimal damage to himself or his broom, but the stand told a different story. It being the Slytherin stand, Harry couldn't (or wouldn't) bring himself to care.

Katie, it seemed, did. "Potter, watch what's going on around you!" She yelled from the sidelines, observing Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote pounding regular orbs resembling basketballs between themselves. "Spacing out in the middle of our match against Ravenclaw in three weeks won't win us the Quidditch cup!"

Harry took back his mental observation. Katie wasn't just Satan; she was Satan with a whip, a jar of honey, the heat of the sun, and a large fire ant hill.

"Katie," panted Demelza Robins, pausing in her game of toss and go with the her fellow Chaser Ginny Weasley, "we've practiced from breakfast through lunch. Can we please call it a day?"

Katie paused, almost like she was seriously considering the plead. Finally, she sighed. "Okay, hit the showers, guys. Practice will be early tomorrow morning, though!"

"You're a goddess, Katie," gasped Jimmy reverently.

"A true gem, Katie," agreed the other Beater.

"Don't thank me," Harry heard Katie say grimly as he landed beside her, "We'll be feeling this tomorrow." With that in mind, the two Beaters dramatically fell to the ground and laid still.

"It wasn't that bad, guys," Harry lied smoothly, smiling slightly when Ritchie cracked an eye open and glared. The two of them, while not sharing the raw talent that their predecessors Fred and George Weasley had, seemed to have the same wicked humor as the former Beaters.

"Says the Seeker to the Beater," Jimmy groaned.

"I rather say you had it easy, mate," Ritchie agreed. "All you got was those weird white goll balls thrown at you."

"Golf," Jimmy corrected smartly.

"Yes, thank you."

"Terribly welcome."

"Hey, what's Malfoy doing here?" Ron demanded loudly, glaring at some area in the stands. The team collectively whipped their heads around and stared at a small blonde slowly making his way down the stands.

"Spying on us he is, the great ferrety git." Ritchie claimed, getting to his feet quickly.

"And look; led here by the braided brat, eh?" Jimmy chimed, bringing attention to said braided boy waiting on the field, watching the other make slow progress down the bleachers. "Shall we tell them what's what?"

"We shall," agreed his friend before the two quickly bounded off toward the two so-called spies, the rest of the team quickly following.

Harry hesitated, narrowing his eyes slightly. Wait a moment... "Wait, guys, that's not–" he called hurriedly, running to catch up with the rest of them. They were already upon Duo and his friend. The only thing running through Harry's mind was the conversation he overheard the two having the night before.

"Hey, Maxwell, what's with bringing the companion? If you wanted the lowdown on the wonderful game of Quidditch, you should have asked your house mates," Katie beat the twins to the punch line, crossing her arms defensively as her team stood rallied behind her.

"Yeah," piped the second string Keeper (Harry vaguely recalled his name was something like Cormac McLagger or McLaggen, and that Katie had blown up at his attitude problem regarding the team quite often), glaring at the blinking blonde hesitating in the stands. "No reason to ask cheating slime like him."

Duo bristled visibly, his face becoming dark with fury. Jimmy and Ritchie backed away quickly; they'd been around Duo quite a lot, and they'd never seen him ostensibly angry before.

"Duo," a soft voice penetrated the sudden silence, drawing attention to the mouth of the blonde, "Calm down. They're just tired and made a mistake."

Harry coughed loudly. "Like I was trying to explain," he said evenly, amazed with the lack of squeak in his voice, "this is Duo's friend, the guy they put in the infirmary the other day."

Ritchie blinked and made a visible effort of looking closely. "Blimey, mate, you're nearly a dead-ringer for Malfoy," he said in awe.

"What are you trying to do, Ritchie, insult him?" Jimmy said in mock outrage. The blonde smiled graciously and finally took that last step from the bleachers. He was the same small height as Duo, nothing above one hundred sixty-five centimeters, and his teal eyes shown with pleasure.

"I don't mind. Mr. Malfoy and I have already noted the similarities between us," the blond said softly. "My name is Quatre Rebarba Winner, a friend of Duo's. It's a pleasure meeting people he actually likes."

"He makes me sound like a crass recluse," Duo complained, grinning from ear to ear. "Q-bean, you KNOW I get along with everyone!"

"Except those suffering sociopathic tendencies."

"Except them," Duo agreed. "One of those in my life is damaging enough."

"Sorry for the mistake," Demelza muttered, ducking her head and blushing slightly.

"It's quite all right," Winner said reassuringly. "I can see where one would make the misunderstanding. Duo's just a little over protective," he added with a teasing smile toward his friend. "He hasn't any other hobbies."

"You treat me so wrong," groaned the braided boy.

"He invited me to view your practice," the blond said apologetically. "I'm sorry if it wasn't allowed, but I've never heard of Quidditch before. I thought it sounded interesting. He's been, well, introducing me to the team, as it were." He smiled brightly, and all of the girls swooned.

"You three are very fast," he commented to Demelza, Ginny, and Katie serenely, daring a winning smile with the three. "Duo tells me you run the Quaffle around the field and throw it into one of the three opponent hoops. I'm sure I'll be able to see you ladies in action during the up-coming game."

"Count on it!" Ginny exclaimed enthusiastically. The blond nodded happily and turned his 100-watt smile toward the two Beaters.

"Messrs. Coote and Peakes are very skilled as well," Winner claimed. "I can't imagine hitting two basketballs toward each other at such a close range. I looks very hard."

The two exchanged proud looks and puffed their chests out. "We like to think we live up to our former Beaters."

"Or, you know, at least we don't suck," Ritchie lamented ruefully.

"There's always that," chuckled Winner, shaking their hands each as he had done with the three blushing Chasers. "And the Keeper, Ron Weasley, you did a very good job out there."

The Keeper shifted from foot to foot, blushing under Winner's praise. "Thanks..." he muttered, quickly shaking Winner's hand.

Winner turned to Harry last, that bright smile coming down a few notches to resemble less admiration and even more gratitude. "And Mr. Potter, you are very talented as well. I must thank you for helping me when I was injured. I can imagine the personal risk it was to go into a forest that felt so wrong."

"Wrong?" Katie piped up, drawing a concerned nod from Winner.

"Yes, it felt... tired. Drained." Winner shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. If possible, it made him look smaller than before. "Dead. I could barely move purely due to the forest."

"That's odd," Harry murmured. "I've been in the forest before. It's never affected me that way."

"Quat's sensitive," Duo interjected bluntly.

Winner's mouth twitched into a small, sad form of the smile he wielded before the subject of the forest came up. He held out his hand once more, and Harry almost hesitated before reaching out to take the offered hand. As soon as their skin met, Winner wavered, looking pained and slightly puzzled. There was one forced pump of their hands, and Winner quickly took his hand from Harry's. He looked immediately relieved.

"What?" Duo asked worriedly, glancing between Harry and Quatre. "Quat?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Winner admitted with a sheepish grin. "I'm afraid I've gone against Madam Pomfrey's wishes and over exerted myself."

"We were heading for the showers anyway," Demelza replied with a concerned look. "You should go lie down."

"Yeah," Jimmy chimed. "Madam Pomfrey's a bit stitchy when it comes to her patients making themselves sick."

"She'll be very cross with you if you go and make yourself faint."

"We'll see you when you're better though, right?" Katie added hopefully, her eyes shining while her cheeks flushed pink. Winner smiled pleasantly and affirmed her request.

"C'mon, guys," Ginny muttered, "I'd really like a shower right now..."

Harry didn't budge as the rest of the time headed for the showers. He stared at those troubled teal eyes and asked instead, "What really happened?"

Duo switched gazes back and forth, finally settling on Winner. "This one's all right, Quat..."

Winner gazed at Harry worriedly. "Does... do you have a migraine?"

Harry blinked at the sudden inquiry. "No..."

Winner worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "When I shook your hand, there was this intense pain here..." He pointed to his own forehead, drawing a strange symbol down the center. "It was so unnatural and violently hurtful... I can almost still feel it."

Harry jerked when the tracing finger finally hit him.

Quatre Winner was drawing a lightning bolt down his forehead... exactly where Harry's scar would be.

**----------**

**Heh, I was gonna clip it here... but the chapter was too short, and I decided I wasn't going to do that to you.**

**On with the fic!**

**----------**

"What does it feel like?" Harry whispered hoarsely, his throat strangely dry as he stared at the puzzled, anxious blonde still tracing an absent shape down his forehead.

"Like... Death. Hatred," Winner laminated. "It feels horrible..."

"Harry's got a scar there," Duo pointed out, nodding solemnly. "Maybe he got it in an accident?"

"No, it's much more than that," Winner insisted heatedly, staring hard at the mentioned scar. Harry forced himself to keep his ground, staring at Winner with equal intensity. "It's a connection, a link; on the other side lies the greatest evil I've ever felt..."

Harry felt a shudder tempt his spine. He spat acrimoniously, "Voldemort!"

Winner's eyes widened. "Who is this Voldemort?" His counterpart, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes intently, almost glaring at Harry's feet with a passion that could not be named; further than hate, further than anger, bordering sadness and despair... Duo looked like his worst enemy just killed his best friend.

Harry shook his head, exasperated. "You don't know?"

"Voldie's this uberjerk of the wizarding world," Duo drawled in a mock dreary tone. "Fancies himself a warlord, or worse - an actual god amongst men. He rules his army of minions by fear alone, and guess what? He ain't good news." He glanced at Quatre, cobalt eyes dull with gravity. "No telling what a psychopath like that would do with someone like you, Quatre. He hates muggles and muggle-borns –those are the guys that have normal parents and whatnot. Dumbledore told me he's all puritan wizard guy, but he knows enough muggle stuff to understand the significance of something like the devastation caused by dropping a colony on Earth or how seriously mind-fucking the ZERO system is.

But what's he got to do with you, Harry?"

Harry stared at Duo, then turned his incredulous gape on the solemn-faced Quatre. "You're not from the wizarding world, either."

"No," Quatre replied quietly, "I'm not."

"Yet you can see Hogwarts fine."

"Yes."

Harry sighed tiredly. "Voldemort came after my parents when I was a little over a year old. He managed to find them, and he killed them. He attempted to use the same curse to kill me, too, but somehow it backfired and hit him instead, destroying his body and sending his soul away. It left me this scar," he emphasized with an absent touch to his forehead, "and orphaned. Thirteen years later, early last June, he managed to use this connection to bring himself from toeing Death's door."

"Funny," Duo commented, "I didn't hear him coming."

Harry blinked at him. "What?"

"That's not the entire story," Quatre noted suddenly. "But yes, that is the important information. This Voldemort is after you."

"Of course. Wait, you're saying you actually believe me?" Harry cried, shocked.

"Do we have any reason not to?" Duo laughed. "Quatre and I have our own built-in lie detectors. If you were lying about anything, we'd know it."

"It's just that," Harry faltered. "Very few people actually believe a word I say. They all think I'm having delusions of grandeur. The only people who consider a word I say are Dumbledore, the professors, my friends, and my godfather."

"Now you have us, too," Duo winked. "And we're the guys you want on your team."

"We'll get our hands dirty," Quatre said softly, "to help anyone who is being unjustly repressed and prejudiced against."

"And Valuemart puritan guy is definitely of the bad," Duo inserted with a smirk.

Harry choked.

"Um, Duo," Quatre said, hiding a smile behind the palm of his hand. "I think that's 'Voldemort'."

"Really?" Duo replied airily. "No wonder I keep having this image of a guy in a red vest attacking innocent civilians with his low, low prices."

"Hey, Drac..."

Draco Malfoy turned the page of his book without looking toward the speaker. "I do not believe I gave you my express permission to know me so personally, McAllistar."

He felt the vile creature sit beside him on the hardback couch, spreading his arms across the back and propping one leg on top of the other as he smirked down at the blonde maliciously.

"Draco, Draco... when are you going to learn that we all aim for the same goal here."

"Strange," Draco replied offhandedly, still keeping his roving eyes on the Latin words printed tinily on the cracking parchment. "Yet you still haven't mastered the art of controlling your thugs' offensive body odor."

The bigger, darker man chuckled politely. "I believe you do not have the room to throw those stones, Drac."

"My name has an 'o'. What is it that you want, McAllistar?"

"So taut! I was simply curious, Draco," McAllistar drawled, mockingly drawing out the 'o' of his name. "You've halted your advocating of a common acquaintance. Certain circles wonder if you've turned your back on him."

_How could I_, Draco mused bitterly, heat seething under the surface of his skin as the swine nonchalantly laid his hand on his opposite shoulder, wrapping his arm loosely across Draco's shoulders, _when I am stuck so thoroughly under His thumb that I'm suffocating?_

"I've read about a small thing called tact. Have you heard of it, McAllistar?" Draco snapped his cold gaze on the grinning youth. "I've found it keeps the eyes of those who would persecute me elsewhere."

"Of course," McAllistar agreed smoothly, tossing his head arrogantly. "However, in the privacy of our own common room, you are expected to hold certain ideals proudly."

"Then again," Draco responded cooly, "there are those in this same common room that would have me suffer unnecessarily out of pure malice."

"You're scared."

"I'm reasonably intelligent," Draco countered, closing his book with finality, and he smirked at McAllistar. "The only one I believe in our company who fears our common acquaintance is you, McAllistar."

The older boy unwrapped his arm from around Draco's shoulder like he had been burned. Jerkily, he took a damning hold of the blonde's small wrist and hissed into the shell of his ear, "Watch yourself, Malfoy. You will do well to keep me satisfied."

"Of course," Draco murmured quietly, one-handedly fingering his book casually before meeting McAllistar's brown-eyed stare again. "However, perhaps you should not manhandle me so in front of prying eyes."

McAllistar, realizing the folly of his action, squeezed Draco's pale wrist one last time before taking his hand away with an amiable smile. Draco resisted the urge to rub the soreness away; he knew without looking that his wrist would bruise quickly.

"He has substantial designs for you, Draco," McAllistar murmured softly. "Some would consider this an honor. Do not squander his attention with your foolery."

"I'll not change for him."

"Is that a challenge?"

Emotionless grey hues met burning brown. The blonde snorted softly. "Take it as you wish, McAllistar. I explain myself to no one."

McAllistar's smiled widened as he hummed quietly in assent before he and his hovering goons moved for the common room entrance. Draco watched dispassionately as they disappeared through the portal.

"That was very risky, Draco," confided a familiar murmur. Draco didn't have to glance over to see Blaise propped against the back of the couch. "Do you suppose he has any knowledge privy to you?"

Draco slid a look toward the dark-haired boy. "McAllistar's an idiot. He's attempting a sad mimicry of intimidating me, and he realizes his efforts are mediocre at best."

"Did he allow anything to slip?"

"Just further proof that he's a lapdog to the Dark Lord," Draco replied flippantly. "He insinuated that I'm not to be initiated into the ranks. For some reason, the Dark Lord has more important plans for me."

"Indeed." Zabini knelt beside Draco's ear. "Something we already suspected."

"But not proved," Draco reminded the other boy meaningfully, slowly sliding his book into the discarded bag lying against the small, cherry wood table in set as a centerpiece for seating arrangement around the burning fire. "Everything before was nothing but speculation. The question we now face is this: how many of us are in for the same plot?"

"Or are you the only one the Dark Lord has culled from the many choices."

The thought did not bode well for the Malfoy heir.

_**END CHAPTER SEVEN**_

* * *

**__**

**The Valuemart crack was, I'm afraid to say, shamelessly stolen from GoddessEris' _A Bicycle in the Family Tree_ on The line was such a golden wise-ass moment that I just HAD to steal it. :_bows_: If you don't mind HPBtVS crossovers, go read it -it's under my favorites list. Go! Now! You'll love it, even if it hasn't been updated in God knows how long.**


	8. Chapter Eight

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Eight**_

"What _is_ that horrible racket?"

Duo raised his eyebrow, throwing a happy-go-lucky grin over his shoulder as he sent Hermione a sultry wink. Duo had taken it upon himself to bring his stereo to the common room in order to feel more at home in his surroundings. The 'horrible racket' happened to have been a song that started off soft and lulling until the point where the singer started screaming. "It's music, darling. C'mon -you're a smart girl. You should know what music is."

Harry choked on his sudden bark of laughter, covering his mouth to hide the grin. Quatre, having made himself home in the Gryffindor common room, was as tranquil as ever, but his wide teal eyes did hold a certain amount of mirth.

"That is not music," Hermione mumbled. "That's someone beating the hell out of a drum and strumming their sausage-like fingers across a guitar that's entirely too shrill."

"Oooh," Duo said with a teasing grin. "Hermione said 'hell'. Adults everywhere chide you, Mione -they chide you and feel utterly destroyed that the model student has been corrupted."

Hermione ignored his good-natured teasing.

"I've never heard anything like that," Ron commented, wrinkling his nose as the gruff, male voice coming from the odd contraption in the corner. It looked kind of like a Wizard Wireless, but bigger and... muggle-looking. His eyes brightened instantly, and he raised his voice to be overheard over the music that was maybe playing a tad too loud. "Is that some kind of muggle device?"

Duo laughed lightly, his head absently bobbing to music that Harry _knew_ his aunt Petunia and his uncle Vernon abhorred, but always overlooked the fact that it was exactly the kind of music their dear Duddikins listened to.

"It's called a stereo, Ron," Duo replied with a quick grin. "Remind me to take you on a quick tour of the muggle world, man -you are _seriously_ stunted as to what fabulously inventions we muggl- I mean, those people have come up with."

"So, as I understand it," Quatre said slowly, "the wizarding world is completely separate from the normal -I'm sorry, the _muggle_ world. Muggles know next to nothing about any of this, but wizards haven't familiarized themselves with muggle convention. Is that right?"

"Wizards try," Hermione replied smartly, contemplating her Arithmancy essay absently. "Hogwarts offers a course called Muggle Studies, where a professor attempts to explain such things as electricity, mass communications, appliances... Most purebloods are under the impression that muggles are still bumbling cavemen or something."

"It goes both ways, I think," Duo said, fiddling with the controls of his stereo. "I mean, when I first got here, I was absolutely horrified that you guys didn't have television or internet access. I was thoroughly convinced all of you were a bunch of backwater bumpkins who couldn't figure out how to install circuitry for anything _useful_, like, say, a blowdryer. Now I know that electricity and magic are non-mixy things... and I did suffer from computer withdrawal, but that goes away. Eventually."

"Perhaps," Quatre said slowly, an inquisitive look on his face, "some of the more intolerant... purebloods, you said? Perhaps some of the more intolerant purebloods would have a better understanding of their non-magical counterparts if you attempted to integrate some of the things muggles use or have into normal wizarding life? Positive things that clearly state that muggles are not bumbling cavemen and that they are capable of living without magic through actual science."

Hermione shrugged delicately. "Wizards aren't very logical. I suppose it's a common belief that, in order to keep muggles from finding out about the magical community, the two worlds have to be completely isolated from each other. It's why you will have some wizards and witches look down on others for being from muggle roots -they've got it into their heads that muggles are completely subhuman."

"Muggles would think the same way, I think," Quatre said. "I mean, consider all of the problems non-magic people have had in the past with the merest mention of something otherworldly. The Spanish Inquisition, the Salem Witch Trails -people in general never really appreciate their sense of normalcy uprooted, and as human beings, we all react rather abysmally against something that isn't considered 'normal'."

"That's very true," Hermione said, her eyes bright as she smiled at Quatre.

Duo laughed. "Q-bean, you just aren't happy if you can't seriously discuss a social situation and attempt to find a solution to making peace with everyone." He looked at Ron wryly. "Quatre loves to find solutions, and he blames himself if it never works. Sooner or later he'll say there's no air in space because he didn't try hard enough."

An odd look crossed Ron's face. "There's no air in space?" he asked incredulously. "How do you _breathe_?"

Harry fell out of his chair, holding his sides tenderly as infectious laughter wracked his body. Through the tears in his eyes, he saw Quatre work his jaw wordlessly, as if the blond were trying to find a way to explain without sounding as if he were speaking to a particularly slow five-year-old, and Duo... oh, Duo looked like someone had taken a bouquet of daisies and attempted to beat him unconscious with them. Hermione was shaking her head sadly as Ron looked on, completely baffled as to why Harry was losing his mind.

"Tell me you're not serious," Duo said slowly. Ron blinked. Duo turned when Ginny entered the common room through the portrait hole, and stared imploringly at the girl.

"Tell me you know there's no air in space!"

Ginny blinked. "Like... this space? Or..."

"Outer space!"

"Why wouldn't there be air in outer space?"

"Are you _kidding me_!" Duo almost yelled. "Space -it's one big vacuum of NOTHING! You can't breathe in space -not without a space suit and an oxygen tank to spare!"

"How come we can breathe now?"

"The ozone keeps the oxygen here -Earth is the only planet in this solar system that's actually habitable!"

"What's an ozone?" Ron asked curiously.

Duo's jaw fell open, and for one long moment, the boy who had something to say in every moment of every day was actually struck speechless.

"Just give up, Duo," Hermione said calmly, thumbing through her Ancient Runes text. "It's better to just let it lie."

Quatre nodded sagely. "And that," he said with a small smile, "is one example of how wizards and witches can benefit from classes that will teach basic science."

Hermione blinked, something just coming to her attention. "Duo... how did you make the stereo work? The magic around Hogwarts always negate muggle electronics."

Duo snorted, finally regaining his verbal ground after the crushing blow of realizing that pureblood wizards everywhere were totally ignorant to science. "Magic, my little brainiac. Cooo-whee! Where have _you_ been?"

----------

His friend was clearly on the brink of a mental breakdown. It wasn't apparent by pacing or fidgeting. He didn't talk louder or lower than he usually did, if one could get him to talk at all. No, his friend's harried, worrisomeness was made apparent by the carefully neutral tone he spoke in, and speak he did; not quite the babble of one braided pilot that would remain nameless for the time being, but it was more than usual.

Trowa Barton had broken his quota of words per month. In fact, in the one week they'd been together, Trowa had broken his quota of words for seven months. The feverish gleam in those weary green eyes didn't help.

Chang Wufei, not knowing how he could possibly help the usually silent boy, remained mute. He suspected words wouldn't help Trowa. Not so soon after losing Duo and Quatre. If the pilots of 02 Deathscythe Hell and 04 Sandrock were alive and in the clutches of the New Federation, Wufei prayed for his friends' deaths. Compared to the "treatment" for the "renegade murdering machines" Heero had grimly read from the New Federation's website, it would be a far more painless procedure.

"Duo's not dead," Heero had insisted certainly, confidence radiating from his voice. To this day, months after Duo's disappearance, three days after the New Federation started to publically doubt the morality of the Gundam pilots, Heero still believed.

Wufei, afraid of losing a friend and surrogate family member after the detonation of L5, clung to undoubting Heero's words, even if he did not word his doubts.

Trowa spoke. "Where do you think they're doing now?"

Wufei knew instantly of whom his green-eyed companion was speaking. "Quatre is fretting over us," he replied, subdued. "Duo will be finding a way to communicate with us in the most light-hearted yet obnoxious way possible, if he hasn't found it already."

The question hung in the air: _Then why hasn't he yet?_

Having no rejoinder, Wufei left the unspoken inquiry unanswered.

Trowa stared into his rapidly cooling cup of tea for a moment. "Heero?"

"Hasn't left his room," Wufei murmured.

A feeling spurred at the back of his neck, and both Trowa and Wufei were standing, guns at arm, ready for any invasion.

An owl swooped through an open window, something large and rectangular clutched in its sharp talons. It dropped its package on the table and, wide unblinking eyes on the two dumbfounded boys, hooted softly.

Heero, apparently having the same inkling, appeared at the doorway of the small kitchen, gun in hand yet lowered unthreateningly at his hips. Suddenly a look that could only be described as relieved content came upon the pilot's usually stoic face.

"Duo."

Wufei felt a rueful laugh well up in his chest. "Maxwell would spend his time training an animal of flight delivery tips."

The owl ruffled its feathers huffily, as if saying 'No one trains this bird.'

Heero approached the package slowly, reaching forward and removing an enveloped letter from the string tying it in place. In Duo's familiar scrawl, the envelope simply said "To Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton, and Chang Wufei."

The tension in his shoulders suddenly leaked from Heero as he read allowed, "From Duo Maxwell and Quatre Winner."

Trowa's alleviation was such that he had to sit down. Heero slowly broke the seal and pulled out a yellowed parchment.

_Guys,_

_You wouldn't believe the sights we've been seeing! Can you believe that it's been a while since we've seen each other? Use to see each other every day, but me 'n Quat are okay with the separation; we're anxiously waiting for you to join us. Port terminal crowd was hell, though, no other word for it. The keys for our rooms weren't any better; we had a tough time getting it open. Safety is the key, y'know? (Yeah, I know; Quat hit me for that one.) Quat and I will be glad to see you guys again._

_Missing you all a lot, we are. (Talk like Yoda, I do! Sorry, just got finished watching Star Wars; that show is the just the coolest!)_

_Trowa, did you get our care package? Hope you get well soon! Hee-chan, stay out of trouble at the terminal; don't get trigger-happy on me now! Wu-chan, keep an eye on those two; I'm relying on your cool head to keep them from shooting any strangers in a fit of pique!_

_Wish you were here already,_

_Duo and Quatre_

_P.S._

_Don't worry about the brownies. We'll send for them later!_

"You can use port keys to safety. Quatre misses Trowa. Heero, love you but don't shoot. Wufei, watch those two and don't let them get testy."

"Definitely Duo," Heero replied quietly. The three pilots looked at each other, deftly treating their missing friend's letter while considering the package lying innocently on the table.

The owl hooted tiredly and stuck its beak in Trowa's tea. Trowa, absent-mindedly running his hand down the owl's back, didn't seem to mind.

"Brownies, though?" Wufei mused after deciphering the misleading letter. He wrinkled his brow lightly before staring questioningly at Heero.

"Gundams," Heero said simply. Wufei nodded lightly, snorting in amusement.

"Port keys?" he questioned again.

Heero answered, "It's in the box. They had trouble acquiring them, apparently."

"Yes, but what's a port key?"

Trowa lifted his head. "We're about to find out." The green-eyed boy then eagerly (or as eagerly as Trowa can get) tore into the package, finding three bronze keys safely nestled within the folds of delicate cloth. Trowa inhaled deeply, sure that he smelled Quatre. He realized that the cloth was, in fact, Quatre's shirt, the one he wore when they'd been separated from their pursuers.

"Ready?"

His two companions nodded their affirmative before, together, they reached for a different key.

A pull behind each boy's navel, and all that was left in the small kitchenette was the owl snacking on a discarded strip of bacon.

_**End Chapter Eight**_

* * *

**If you're wondering about the system that Duo used to safely communicate with the others (in case the letter was somehow intercepted), just read the first word in ever sentence of the first paragraph except for the ones in parenthesis, and read between the lines of the second. I thought Duo and Quatre would be cautious enough to use some form of code when attempting to contact the rest of the pilots, especially with everyone and their mothers trying to bring them to justice.**


	9. Chapter Nine

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Nine**_

He fidgeted.

Waiting was, apparently, not a strong point of his. To fill the boredom? Why, he did what he did best!

Talked like a drugged chipmunk.

"Flity taught me this tight-ass charm that can get the charmee to laugh uncontrollable, you think I could use that on Hee-chan or Trowa, because seriously those two need to just relax every once in a blue moon, they're so uptight, do you think it has something to do with the sticks permanently wedged up their butts?-"

How _did_ a drugged chipmunk talk, anyway? Well, in the metaphorical sense of the analogy. Some people had really bad reactions to drugs, like him; drugs were about the only possible way to shut him up for more than an hour. Of course, after that hour he started to talk to imaginary things, so maybe it wasn't such a successful way to actually shut him up.

"-Potions class was really interesting today, I think Sev was too weary to teach me something as potentially dangerous as an Aging Potion because one wrong move, one slightly different ingredient and POW! you have a De-Aging Potion instead, or a tool for inter-dimensional travel and if you get the latter, well, you're totally screwed, I'll tell you that right now-"

Now that he thought of it, a gag might have been the best way to shut him up, but even then he'd be trying to talk around the gag. He'd done so before, but it was kind of unpleasant considering the gag got soaked and his own dribble started to drip down his chin. Boy, wasn't that the most humiliating and degrading experience he'd ever had!

"-personally I think the dimensional travel thing would be kind of cool, but then you have to wonder how you'd get back to this dimension, which is totally uncool, and can you believe how good this pumpkin juice is because I tell you now that I've never had anything as pleasantly sweet as this, isn't that just weird because I've tried everything at least once-"

Speaking of humiliating and degrading... That whole debacle, with the getting captured by the bad guys, getting pummeled to a pulp, and then being saved by the Perfect Soldier himself didn't exactly inspire confidence within himself. And that whole dying from the depravity of oxygen thing, which strangely, he felt a little like he had that time with Wufei.

"-but the British love of grease does not match my palate, which is also a surprise because even Quatre will tell you I'm like a human vacuum cleaner, sucking up every food particle I could find, but some of you probably don't know what a vacuum cleaner is-"

"Do you _ever_ shut up?" griped the Irish boy, what's his name, Finnigan? Duo gave him a poker-faced look before continuing his litany of nonsense and ramble.

Snape, passing by the table at that exact point, actually... snickered? Couldn't be right; a rusty snort of disapproval? More up Snape's alley.

Hermione watched, absolutely fascinated as he spoke and ate and laughed without the apparent need of oxygen, because he _never_ stopped long enough to take the required intake of air for that.

Quatre sat beside Duo, calmly pinching off a portion of a buttered roll, nodding at all the proper moments and agreeing or disagreeing whenever the subject required it, as if he was actually... _listening_ to Duo. To which no one else had really done when they realized that Duo wasn't even bothering to put pauses and hesitations where periods, exclamation marks, or question marks were supposed to go.

"-I can't believe Minny took ten points off my grade the other day just because my ant to anteater thing was blue, I mean, I can't help it if everything I try to transfigure is blue, it just happens, I don't know what to do about it, do you think it's a condition I have because I'm not particularly fond of blue, well, except for Prussian blue, but black spandex has to go with it until I even consider-"

"By the way, did you send-?"

"Of course, Quatre, I'm not a complete airhead, I know when something is so important-"

"I just... can't wait to see him. Them. Him and them."

Duo practically cooed, "Aww, is Q-bean missin' his favorite circus clown? I don't blame you, actually. It's..." Finally, finally Duo was actually talking _normally_. "It's weird, not having Wufei here to give me the dirty look from hell when I go on and on about this or that, or to have Heero stare at me and let me ramble until I'm tired and can ramble no more. And Trowa, man, he's a good listener. Says what matters, that guy. He never beats around that bush."

Hermione, done with her supper, leaned slightly and planted her elbows on the table, eyebrows cocked in interest. "Are they your friends?"

"You bet! The best," Duo laughed, and everyone within hearing range seemed to pause in their conversations to listen, once again, to the chestnut-haired boy. "They've-well, all of us-we have a certain dynamic, I guess you can say. We're dynamite together. Trowa's quiet, kind of blends in with the crowd, but if you know him well enough, he's the first person you see in a line of bland people. He's like a placid lake; yeah, that sounds about right. All calm and collected on a still night, but he can be like churning water during a storm, too, even when he keeps that air of placidity.

"Wufei's like burning fire-a true hero searching for truth, justice," oddly, Duo's lips tilted into a grin as he exchanged amused glances with Quatre, "and the American pie. Or the Chinese cream of sum yung guy, in this case- kidding, kidding! More like Tso chicken. Well, he's more like Tso chicken, anyway. All bland appearances, the typical Chinese dish, and wam! Take a bite, he's full of kick-ass, spicy flavoring. Take that the wrong way and die, buster." Duo pointed at Seamus, who, by the snickering, already took it the wrong way.

"Heero... he's a block of ice, that one. The kind of ice that's so cold it burns. He's the serious one, calculating and... amazing. He's... hard to describe, actually, but hearing him laugh is like, well, ice on a hot sunny day, all melting and taking away the burn of the heat. He's amazing.

"And Quat here," he waved a hand at his present friend, smiling, "is all heart. The heart of the group, I think. He's tactical, always trying to find the least harmful solution, the peace. He can befriend the people no one is willing to befriend without hesitation. Mr. Nice Guy on the outside, but inside is one of the cleverest minds I know. He's... beating, alive, the strongest organ of us. The one that keeps us existing and together."

Quatre smiled at his friend, a one-thousand watt smile that could light the entire school alone.

Hermione was quiet. Harry, thoughtfully staring like many of the others, murmured, "What about you, Duo?"

It was the first time they'd ever seen Duo Maxwell falter. "What about me?..." It sounded more of a question to himself than a diversion tactic. Like he'd never really figured out how he was a part of the group... or like how he'd never even considered figuring it out.

Quatre was silent for all but a moment before he answered, "Duo is wind." The braided boy looked questioningly at his blonde friend, and Quatre smiled again. "He's strong, a force to be reckoned with, for sure... but playful, like a breeze in the fall, teasing the golden and crimson leaves from their failing perches. Or a relieving breeze in the apex of summer, tossing the hair from sticky, sweaty foreheads to dry the perspiration from hot skin. He's... completely Duo."

Duo's amethyst eyes hid behind closed eyelids for all but a moment, a sad yet happy smile tilting his lips momentarily before the teasing grin fell back into place. He looked at the rest of the table, a wicked look in his eyes as he said, "Or a break of wind, all smelly and unpleasant."

Whatever tension could have existed, Duo easily decapitated it, bringing those who were listening-and, surprisingly, even a few Hufflepuffs within hearing distance-to exploding laughter and giggles, earning himself several slaps on the back and affirmation that sometimes he could be that, too. Quatre Winner smiled tolerantly to his friend; underneath that smile was the insistence that everything the blonde had said, he believed true.

Duo returned the smile with a brilliance unmatched by anything Hermione had ever witnessed.

She turned to Harry, planning to ask him something-homework, schoolwork, it didn't matter about what she wanted when she soon forgot-and she paused. Harry's face was a mask of ponderous wonder, unblinking, unfocused eyes staring somewhere around the vicinity of the salt shaker. Suddenly those green eyes snapped back into focus and he closed his eyes, shuddering violently before murmuring an incoherent excuse and leaving the table. No one paid attention to his untouched meal or his premature leave.

She watched him leave, knowing that somehow his mood had something to do with Duo's friends.

----------

Voldemort was... ecstatic. And things that made Voldemort happy never bode well for Harry.

He'd known, somehow, that he couldn't have one peaceful year without something dramatic or frightening happen. Sometimes he was thoroughly surrounded by an air of naive hope that this year was the year that Voldemort -or the universe, in general- didn't spoil it with mystery, intrigue, and adrenalin-pumping fear-slash-determination. But no, it always seemed to come back to Voldemort, one way or another.

What could it be this time? It had been so quiet aside from Quatre's sudden appearance and Duo's... well, Duo's existence, mostly. He still couldn't seem to place just what was so familiar about that mobile suit Quatre had been near when Harry had found him. It wasn't like anything he remembered seeing from OZ, but... Then again, he wasn't too interested in the muggle world, even if he lived in it. The Dursleys never really kept him up-to-date on the happenings of the muggle world, nor did they care to.

Once, he had the niggling suspicion that Quatre and Duo might have been spies sent from Voldemort's camp, but the thought left him feeling doubtful. Quatre seemed to honestly be a good person, and Duo... well, half the time Harry didn't know anything about the long-haired teenager with the happy amethyst eyes. He'd worried over it, after hearing Duo's violent blow-up in the Infirmary that night Quatre informed him of something bad. Harry hadn't known what any of it was about, but... the way Duo reacted.

Betrayal. Something painful enough that Duo had said horrible things that sounded like he would have eagerly signed up as a future Death Eater in training.

Then Quatre had revealed that he was an empath, and there was that conversation about Voldemort... Duo seemed adamant about being against everything Voldemort stood for. It was so confusing...

A muffled sound caught his attention, and he turned sharply in the direction of the alien sounds before pulling his Invisibility Cloak from the recesses of his backpack, quickly donning the silky material.

----------

"How in the world?..."

Heero quickly analyzed the bronze key carefully laid across his palm, feeling something... strange -alien- about the object, but nothing indicating an advanced transportation device, no microchip designs, no strange wiring... just a key. He clutched the small, bronze object in his hand again, simply as an experiment.

Nothing. No jolt behind his navel, nor was there an off-balanced sense of displacement. Just a key, rapidly warming in his clenched fist.

Trowa drew his fingers lightly over the cold stone walls, making note of the barren walls and the crackling fire in a large fireplace, also considering two long royal purple couches with four matched sets of chairs. In the center was a simple mahogany coffee table, three cups of steaming liquid set precisely on white porcelain saucers, set alongside the table in front of one of the couches.

"Very old," he commented blankly, his eyes never straying from the coffee table. "Medieval, perhaps older."

Heero narrowed his eyes slightly, coming to the same conclusion as Trowa. Possibly a castle, maybe a dungeon... but no, not a dungeon for he did not sense any impending danger.

"I'm aiming for 'older'," Wufei remarked suddenly, also eyeing the walls and floor with analytical precision. "The mortar doesn't crumble... this was carved from stone." He gave them significant looks. "Together. It's as if someone found a large rock and carved a precise, equally dimensional room from the inside."

Heero easily processed this information with a slight nod, and after hesitating slightly, he slid a folded piece of parchment from under the teapot.

_Hey guys,_

_No, you haven't been captured by the government or any rebel groups. Yes, this place is really old. And no, you cannot idly (snerk!) wander around to look for us! Believe it or not, this place is a school. I can't explain it now, but we will as soon as we sneak away from dinner. A good dinner. With really good food, surprisingly enough. (Don't worry, we'll bribe the Dream Team into sneaking us into the kitchens for you later!)_

_I can safely say that this letter doesn't need to be coded in any way. Everyone here is cool; if they aren't, then they don't know about the room you're in now. It's hard to explain (what isn't?), so Heero, if you'll please refrain from immediately taking hostages or harassing any random person you find, and Trowa, if you'll consider not integrating into the student body this second, we'll be there as soon as we can. (Even if you do decide to sneak around posing as a student, I think it'll be a bit harder than you expect; I know you won't have the particular "uniform" we use.) Wufei, again, I trust you to keep those two within the limits. For now, at least._

_Don't be surprised if you see someone wander in before you see us-me and Quatre, that is. Don't freak out. If he or she is old, he or she is possibly a teacher. In any case, ask for names first, and anyone named in this letter is perfectly all right: Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape. If he or she is our age, he or she might possibly be a Gryffindor. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter come to mind. Then again, Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin, is a bit too curious for his own good as well._

_I know you may be angry with me for not contacting you soon after I metaphorically disappeared off the face of the world (and that analogy is too close to the truth, actually), but believe me when I say that it took a lot of time to process what I have to tell you. If my suspicions are correct, I think we're all in for a big change in our lives._

_Heero, there's an object lying between the cushions of the first chair on the right from where you're standing. It's a "stick" exactly ten and a quarter inch long, polished ebony wood. I want you to CAREFULLY extract this object, place the object on the table, and leave it alone. Wufei, don't let those two take it apart. On second thought, NONE of you take it apart. I will kill you in the most bloodiest of fashions if you guys do. That's our excuse for escaping dinner you're wielding there._

_Give us a few minutes,_

_Duo (and Quatre!)_

Heero folded the letter carefully, his eyes focusing on a point in his peripheral vision. The entire purpose of his reading the letter aloud was not to "keep his fellow Gundam pilots up-to-date."

It was to attract the attention of something else in the room. Even as he began to read his friends were edging cautiously to where they "sensed" the spectator; however, no matter how often they reassured themselves that nothing was there... _something_ proved them wrong.

Wufei nodded grimly and lifted his gun blindly at head level. The sound of the gun being cocked resonated around them all.

Then, quietly, a voice sounded, calm and resigned. "Don't shoot." Heero didn't blink when he suddenly saw a shimmer in the air directly around Wufei's aim. He swore he saw a faint outline of a figure...

"Yes, of course, what am I thinking?" Wufei mocked solemnly, never wavering from his stance, prepared to support the kick of the gun should he have to use it. "Why, it's not like you've secretly interrupted something and rudely listened in on our conversation."

"Maybe, but you knew I was in here when you began to analyze the walls."

"On that note, you're invisible." Trowa moved forward, coming close to the shimmery figure. "We won't waste our time with the how. Just reveal yourself."

Immediately the shimmer intensified before the boy appeared, a silver cloak held reluctantly out for Trowa. Emerald green eyes shaded by round, black-framed glasses and a mop of messy unkempt hair akin to Heero's own messy locks. His scrawny appearance in his strange garb was too inaccurate to go by; if anything, the boy looked fast. The black-haired boy was approximately 5"6, or 167 centimeters tall according to the British geometric system, which was apparently where they were. _Peru to England in a millisecond? It's like breaking all laws of physics within the span of five minutes. Not. Possible._

Another part of his mind said knowingly, _And completely something Duo would find out how to do._

Heero found that a lot of things weren't possible this day when Wufei, having inspected the cloak Trowa had handed him, cooly announced that the cloak was just that-a cloak.

Heero joined in the staring contest as the three present Gundam pilots surrounded the stranger.

Seemingly unnerved by the staring, the boy shifted. "I'm Harry Potter, a friend of Duo's." He shrugged suddenly, as if not particularly caring either way if he was shot or not. "You must be Hee-chan, Chammy, and Fei."

The Chinese boy glanced at Heero irritably. "Does Maxwell have a disorder that inhibits his ability to remember anyone's real name?"

"At least he found one for Trowa," the Perfect Soldier intoned levelly, keeping half of his attention on Harry Potter. He knew he should trust Duo's judgement about this boy, yet there was something oddly... distinctive about him. As if the boy were on edge, or prepared for an attack...

"He was agonizing over it during Charms," Harry informed them nonchalantly. "Someone mentioned her sister's pet chamaeleon, ergo, the birth of a nickname. Said he didn't want you to be disappointed when you came to visit him," he said to the ever-silent Trowa. When Potter didn't receive any sort of acknowledgment from him, he turned to inspect the room minutely. "Portkey, right?"

The three exchanged disguised glances. "What, exactly, is a Portkey?" asked Wufei stiffly.

"A device capable of transporting a person or a group of people from one place to another despite distance and time," Potter said offhandedly before a look of horror spread across his face. He buried his face in his hands. "And I can't believe I just read off a textbook definition. Oh, the shame."

"Are you going Hermione on us, Harry?"

That voice. Heero turned and, for once in a very long while, smiled slightly. Trowa was a step ahead of him, actually taking a brisk step toward the familiar laughing blonde to wrap his arms around him, pulling him close as the blonde buried his own face into Trowa's shoulder.

Duo's wide grin seemed contagious as similar copies tried to spread across Heero and Wufei's faces instantaneously, but both managed to smother those grins into a petite smile and a crooked smirk.

"Maxwell. Forgot how to write a letter?" Wufei inquired, crooked smirk fixed in place. "You certainly didn't forget how to train random animals to deliver said letter."

"What, Yoshi?" Duo laughed in delight, throwing his arms around both Wufei and Heero, spinning them both around before his grip went lax. He left his arms across their shoulders and, for once, they didn't knock his elbows off.

"Please tell me you didn't name your owl after a video game dinosaur." Wufei's tone, however, displayed all the intentions of teasing in Wufei's normal manner.

"Of course I didn't! It just sounded like a good name at the time." Duo's amethyst eyes twinkled merrily, expressed with a higher meaning. "And I didn't train Yoshi," Duo continued in good humor. "Yoshi's just a smart owl." The grin faded somewhat, and Duo stared at them with a blank smile on his face, something... dimming in his eyes.

"It's good to see you guys again."

"As is the same for you, Duo," Wufei intoned meaningfully, all of their worry forced into that one formal statement. Heero, silent as ever, let his relief show by the warmth on his face.

Trowa, finally tearing himself away from the brightly smiling blonde, nodded once before clasping onto Quatre's hand, holding on like he was trying to prevent Quatre from disappearing again.

"I see you guys have met Harry, then?" Quatre smiled softly, tilting his head towards the boy apart from them. "Harry, this is Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton, and Chang Wufei, our friends."

Eyeing Wufei's drawn gun hanging limply at his side, Duo noted drily, "I think they've met, Quat."

"Astute regard, Duo," the blonde said lightly, "but I was meaning that as a friendly overture instead of an oblivious observation."

"I see your point," the braided-boy replied in a tone that matched Quatre's lightness.

"Pleased to meet you," the boy Quatre and Duo introduced as Harry Potter said pleasantly to the people he didn't know, not to be outdone. He eyed Wufei for a moment before he said, "Bugger. Duo, I owe you five Galleons."

The chestnut-haired boy laughed. "See? See, didn't I tell you? And you said I was exaggerating!"

The Chinaman sighed and seemed to resist the urge to tug on his ponytail in frustration. "Like clockwork, Maxwell has managed to cause wariness and paranoia within the first five minutes of our meeting him again."

Trowa's Look said 'What, and you expected different?'

The raven-haired youth snorted. "I thought the thing with Malfoy and Quatre was pure coincidence. Now I'm starting to think this is one giant conspiracy dedicated to milking my bank account." Nonetheless, he handed Duo five, glittering gold coins. "I think Cho will forgive you after she sees him."

Duo whooped loudly, laughing. "All right! At this rate I'll be rich by the end of the year!" He pocketed the coins, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he offered, "I bet you five Galleons that within three months, Vice Minister Dorlian will find Hogwarts screaming for Heero."

"Vice Minister..." Potter's left eye ticked in want to take Duo up for that, but the internal war ended in mere second, and he managed to turn down the bet.

"You should have taken it." Wufei said, scowling at the memory of the young Vice Minister. "That woman hasn't been around to do that in a very long, very peacefully satisfying while."

Duo snickered. "Because she's been too busy. Trust me, it won't last."

Heero, always ready with a response, snorted disdainfully and refused to comment on the matter any further. This became an unspoken agreement between the five other boys, as the thunderous expression Heero was sure he pasted across his face was enough to force wild animals to back off and let him do his business.

"Ah! There it is!" Duo said loudly, drawing Heero's look. He pointed. "Nee, Hee-chan, can you hand me that?"

_The object Duo mentioned in his letter._ the Japanese pilot of 01 Wing Zero glanced at the lone "stick" protruding slightly from between the cushions of the chair he was standing in front of. A peculiar feeling shivered up his spine and, curiously, he wrapped his hand around the handle...

The couch burst into flames. Heero, having felt something was going to happen to begin with, jerked away before he could be scorched, bringing the stick-esque object with him.

The couch went into ashes before anyone could do anything about it. Shaken inwardly, Heero calmly handed the wide-eyed pilot his stick. Apparently Duo hadn't expected the response the object had to Heero, for the violet-eyed boy stared at Heero longer than was comfortable. The Japanese pilot didn't even blink.

"Maxwell..." Wufei breathed in, and Heero noted the peculiar lack of smoke fumes. He tilted his head to the side in a silent query.

"I suspected, but..." the American murmured in amazement. "That was so cooool."

Potter, in all of the suddenness of the situation, seemed incredibly excited about something. He thrust his own stick into Quatre's hand, saying, "Here, swish it!" before the blonde questioningly complied, bringing a wave of small fireworks from the tip.

"We didn't think!-" the boy exclaimed, turning to Duo, telling him, "Test, um, Trowa, and-here, Wufei." The instrument of fire-based lighting was shoved into the Chinese boy's hands; Heero guessed that a spark could have set the fire aflame... but so fast? Not possible unless the couch was doused with liberal amounts of flammable liquids, to which Heero doubted due to the lack of smell in the air. The material wasn't very different from any other couch...

Wufei shared a baffled glance with Trowa before, synchronously, they twitched their given "sticks" in the air. On one side of the room a vase exploded while, on the other, a huge, faded tapestry shriveled and shrunk into a hot pink warthog... with purple spots.

Wufei allowed the blonde pilot the time to slip the wand from his grip, the Chinaman staring at the purple-polka-dotted warthog squealing loudly in the corner. "That's not possible."

"But apparently completely doable," Trowa pointed out frankly, peering passed the Chinese boy to glance at his 'impossible' miracle. "A warthog, Wufei?"

"A girly warthog," Wufei snorted in aversion.

"Duo..." the boy in the glasses said, grinning as the braided boy made a squeal of delight when a sudden dawning realization fell upon him.

"Magic..." Quatre said in awe, staring at the object he received from the disgusted Chinese youth.

"Magic?" came out of Heero's mouth before he could stop it, blinking once in reaction.

"Magic." Trowa seemed to easily take this statement for true, and Heero didn't blame him-the word had, in fact, come from Quatre's mouth.

"Magic!" Incredulity was dripping from Wufei's surprised statement. The Chinese boy fell back into one of the fluffy purple chairs, looking severely disgruntled.

"What is there, an echo in here?" Duo bounced, laughing loudly as he took the object in Trowa's hand back. "Magic! Swish and flick! Wingardium Leviosa!"

Wufei, sensing something, jumped out of the chair before it could take him into the air with it. "Maxwell!"

"This is so amazing!" Quatre murmured, still in a state of shock. Suspicion cleared his amazement, hardening his eyes slightly as he narrowed a gaze on his fellow pilots. "And more than slightly dubious."

Duo instantly sobered, eyeing his companion with an air of agreement. He had time to tell the other pilots, "We've got trouble" before he turned toward the hanging tapestry Potter had come from, smiling widely as the four Gundam pilots immediately tensed.

"Hey, Albus and company. Come to meet our friends?"

_**End Chapter Nine**_


	10. Chapter Ten

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Ten**_

What a disturbing turn of events.

Three -not one, not two- THREE of Maxwell's friends were there, at Hogwarts, tensed and prepared, not counting Winner. Four friends in total.

"There are more of them?" Sprout fretted in a whisper. "Albus, one alone took out TWO of my greenhouses... One I can barely keep standing! My plants won't survive with FIVE of them running amuck!"

"I assure you, Ponoma," Dumbledore twinkled, "Misters Yuy, Chang, Winner, and Barton won't provide you with the same problems as Mr. Maxwell."

If possible, even Severus seemed to look a mite worried. "Let's hope not," Minerva said faintly. Albus was certain her mind was going back to the many... incidents... that had quickly become commonplace at Hogwarts.

Albus thought it was rather amusing. His associates, however, did not.

When the Headmaster pulled the tapestry back, Duo's cheery smile and unassuming demeanor greeted him. "Hey, Albus and company." He corked his head to the side. "Come to meet our friends?"

"Indeed we have, young Mr. Maxwell," Filius said with a true smile. He, of all the professors, took Duo better than most. Besides, charming soot from the Charms rooms' ceiling was a great deal easier than, say, recovering from a Drought of the Living Death that lasted two weeks.

"Guys, these are Professors Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Ponoma Sprout..." He motioned toward Albus, smiling crookedly, "and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster, Professors, this is Chang Wufei, Trowa Barton, and Heero Yuy."

The three latest newcomers didn't even shift where they stood, bodies facing Duo and Quatre, heads turned to the point they could see the Hogwarts staff clearly. All looked stunningly different from their two comrades -one, a Chinese boy, greatly resembled Cho Chang. In fact, even his name was Chang -Wufei Chang. Or, according the Asian way of naming, Chang Wufei. His face was serious and young -but his eyes displayed just how much wisdom this teenager beheld.

Trowa Barton -blank, cold, and mysterious. Even if Dumbledore hadn't known the boy's age, he would have had trouble placing just how old this 17 year old was. He had an ageless face, with ageless eyes that displayed nothing important to him -in fact, nothing at all.

Heero Yuy was stoic and tense, hand twitching at his hip where the faint outline of a weapon sat comfortably. He had emotion, of this Dumbledore was sure -restrained, tightly controlled by a obsessive compulsive part of his mind. Heero Yuy reminded Dumbledore greatly of someone; it did not bode well for the boy. Or Hogwarts.

Chang Wufei bowed respectfully. "I take it you are responsible for Maxwell's further well-being?"

"Not for a lack of trying on Mr. Maxwell's part, I assure you, Mr. Chang," Dumbledore said jovially. "But yes -Mr. Maxwell has gifted this school with his presence for many months now."

A spark entered Mr. Yuy's eyes momentarily. "I strongly doubt 'gifted' is the word you intended to use, but I speak for my companions when I say we understand."

"Ooooi," Mr. Maxwell groaned. "So mean..."

"So cruel," Harry piped, grinning from ear to ear.

"But so true," Chang Wufei shot back, earning an easy laugh from Harry.

"Our wands worked for them, professor," Duo said offhandedly, idly rubbing the tip of his wand in absent thought. "Isn't that odd?"

"Odd? Not quite so, Mr. Maxwell," Albus said with a twinkle in his eyes. "If they weren't even a little magical they wouldn't be able to see Hogwarts right now. This room would be mere rubble to them."

Trowa appeared thoughtful. "The concept of magic may explain how Duo was a specialist in staying out of sight on a mission. The enemy never noticed he'd been there until the fireworks went off."

Fireworks?

"It explains a damn lot," Duo grinned. "Quatre's space heart, Trowa's infiltration specialty, Heero's ability to jump from a thirty story building sitting on a cliff and surviving the fall with just a broken leg..."

Harry blinked. "You mean that tripe story is true?"

Duo put a hand to his chest, as if highly offended. "Why, Mr. Potter! I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie."

"But Headmaster," Ponoma said frettingly, "I can understand how the Department for the Recruitment of Young Witches and Wizards can make the mistake of missing one wizard -but five?"

"Ah, but they only made one mistake, Ponoma," Albus claimed cheerfully. "Mr. Maxwell's name was listed in the Book of Newborn Witches and Wizards since the day he was born. However -you all recall your astrology classes, am I right? Almost two hundred years ago, muggles began colonizing the stars."

"Muggles?" Chang Wufei inquired stiffly. Severus had narrowed his eyes on the four youth when they exchanged similarly secretive looks upon the mention of Maxwell's name being listed anywhere.

"Non-magic people," Albus explained kindly. "There is no way for wizards to find potential students upon the star colonies, as we call them. I'm sure there are many more potentials other then yourselves that reside in the colonies, unknowing of the power they wield. Mr. Maxwell was born on Earth, but due to certain unforseen circumstances, he was relocated to one of the star colonies at a very young age."

"My mother died," Maxwell said cheerfully, startling Severus with his rather glib posture.

"Yes," Albus nodded, apparently unaffected by Maxwell's attitude. "Mr. Winner happens to have pureblood ties -his mother was Quatrine Malfoy."

"Malfoy!" McGonagall exclaimed, everyone's eyes flashing to the surprised blond boy. Severus supposed that explained the heavily resemblance between Draco Malfoy and Quatre Winner. Severus could understand everyone's disbelief -the boy was as far from Draco Malfoy, attitude wise, as night was to day.

"I never knew my mother's maiden name," Winner admitted softly, his hand absently clutching at the area above his heart. "She died not long after I was developed."

"Developed?" Filius murmured.

"Quat's a test tube baby," Maxwell replied frankly. "But that doesn't make any sense -he has sisters all over Earth, but none of them show the slightest bit of magic!"

"Ah," Albus said, looking puzzled. "But it is impossible for someone who was not born naturally to be a wizard, Mr. Winner. Are you positive you were born in one of these... test tubes?"

"The atmosphere of L4 wasn't ideal for natural birth in regard to my mother," Winner said, sounding strangely bitter. "My sisters and I were developed in test tubes."

"But Mr. Winner," Albus said gently, "I've seen your mother's death certificate. She died due to complications during childbirth. Her obituary clearly stated that her son survived."

"Son?" Winner said faintly. "But... I don't..."

"Have any brothers," Barton said quietly, startling most. The boy hadn't said anything since the professors and the Headmaster entered the room.

"The only logical conclusion," Yuy said evenly, "is that you, Quatre, were born naturally.

"My father would have told me!" Winner insisted, the clenched hand over his heart bleaching white. Barton placed a comforting hand on Winner's shoulder, and the blond boy smiled thankfully at the taller European youth.

"I'm sure his reasons for keeping the origins of your birth secret were, to his mind, for the best, Mr. Winner," Albus explained soothingly. "I had the pleasure of meeting your father once, and he seemed like a very kind man.

"Chang," the Headmaster went on, "is a very common surname; however, I know of at least several Changs of pureblood lineage who are fine witches and wizards. You, Mr. Chang, could be a descendant of any one of them, or even a muggleborn -a witch or wizard born of muggle parents."

The Chinese youth nodded sharply. "Perhaps. My family happened to be very convinced that all myths were, at one time, based on fact."

"That they are, Mr. Chang," Albus said cheerfully. "Messrs. Barton and Yuy could very well be muggleborns as well. Witches and wizards have very strong ties to the mystical energies that Earth has to offer. Once one who is destined to be a witch or wizard leaves the earth, it is theorized that his or her magic becomes dormant, awaiting the time for when the destined wizard returns to where all humans originate. There could literally be hundreds residing on the star colonies who are magical in nature; sadly, without our natural home, that power is inactive."

"Taking in the fact that this... magic," Chang said slowly, as if the word 'magic' was a foreign one that he'd never thought would pass his lips without some form of ridicule attached, "is real, than I suppose that is a likely conclusion."

"Of course," Albus said whimisically. "Now. Mr. Maxwell came to me not long ago with word that his friends were in great need of asylum. However, in a turn of good fortune, it seems that you four are quite capable of becoming students at this fine establishment."

"By choice, you mean," Barton said evenly, drawing several of the professors' curious stares. "You would not force us to attend this school."

"Of course not," Albus said. "However, I'd like to point out that learning to control your inborn magical talent would be a very fruitful endeavor. Those of the wizarding world are not very concerned with muggle particulars."

"Duo," Yuy said, turning a contemplative glance toward the braided boy. "What's your report?"

"This place is cool," Maxwell said airily. "Good food, fun classes, a few not-so-fun classes that I'm sure you and 'Fei will like, at least-" The Chinese youth snorted derisively, giving the American a wry glance, "-and I've been here for months and they haven't kicked me out yet. And, like the Headmaster said, muggles can't see it. Harry, wanna say anything? Pros, cons?"

"Hogwarts is well protected," Harry said after a moment of thought. "I mean, I have an evil megalomaniac wanting to kill me every year, and I'm still alive."

"By luck and sheer stupidity," Severus mumbled. Luckily only Albus and Minerva heard; Albus smiled in amusement as Minerva gave the Slytherin Head of House a firm glare.

"Hn," the Japanese boy grunted, glancing at Winner.

The blond smiled brightly. "I think it's a very good idea, and we'll learn a lot of new things that we hadn't known about before. Trowa?"

"I'm in," Barton shrugged. "Wufei?"

"I suppose taking advantage of the school's generous hospitality would not hurt," Chang said evenly. "Yuy, what say you?"

"I'm not against the idea," Yuy replied.

Maxwell laughed in delight and pumped a fist in the air. "Yay! The Fab Five are all together once again!" The exuberant boy threw an arm around Yuy's waist, pulling the Japanese youth close. "Missed ya, Hee-chan!"

"Hn. Baka," Yuy said, expressionless save for a minuscule smile. He tugged absently at the end of Maxwell's long braid, holding onto the rope of hair for a moment longer before dropping it again.

_I knew that thing had to have been used for a leash by someone_, Severus thought privately.

"How swell!" Albus clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Our first order of business is the Sorting, and tomorrow morning one of the staff shall escort you to Diagon Alley for your school supplies. Minerva, the Sorting Hat, if you will."

"You brought the Hat?" Maxwell said, slanting a sly glance at the Headmaster. "That sounds prearranged."

"Well, magic or no, your friends could have attended some of our classes without worry," Albus explained, taking the Sorting Hat with a thankful smile towards the Transfiguration professor. "Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Herbology require little to no magical talent. In case your friends were willing, I thought it would be prudent to bring the Hat.

"Now, in alphabetical fashion, Mr. Barton will be Sorted first."

Barton moved forward wearily. "What does it do? And what is a Sorting?"

"There are four houses at Hogwarts," Albus explained. "There is Gryffindor for the brave and daring (to which Mr. Maxwell resides), Hufflepuff for those of patience and hard work, Ravenclaw for those who are not adverse to knowledge and learning, and Slytherin for those of cunning and ambition. Our own Professor McGonagall is the Head of Gryffindor House. Professor Snape, our resident Potions Master, is the Head of Slytherin House. Professor Sprout, our Herbology teacher, is Head of Hufflepuff House, and Professor Flitwick, our Charms professor, is Head of Ravenclaw House. The Sorting Hat will tell us where you belong."

"I see," Barton murmured, taking the Hat from the Headmaster's wizen hands and slowly slipping it on his head.

----------

_**Ah, a Sorting already? I see... very peculiar circumstances.**_

Trowa frowned. _You speak?_

_**I do more than just speak, dear Mr. Barton! I plunder the very depths of your mind to find out where you belong.**_

_I see. Do you disclose any information to the Headmaster? I do not appreciate my privacy exploited._

_**Only very rarely, Mr. Barton, and very candidly. Now... A quick mind, I see, and very patient. Difficult, very difficult. Ah... Aha, a very cunning young lad, aren't you? A good spy... So much trouble in your past. Better be...**_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Trowa slipped the Hat from his head and handed it off to Wufei. "It talks."

"I noticed," Wufei said dryly. Trowa shrugged and walked back to Quatre, sparing the slight boy a small smile. Wufei would see what he meant by that when he put the Hat on.

----------

_**Another one? Dear me, a busy day, isn't it?**_

Wufei started, scowling quickly. '_It talks.' Thank you, Barton, the heads-up was appreciated._

The Hat chuckles reverberated through his skull. **_That Mr. Barton, a man of few words, isn't he? Now, let's see... Ah. Ahhh, a noble warrior, are you, Mr. Chang? Very brave, very daring, and yet... Not very brash, are you? The downfall of a Gryffindor, I'm afraid. No, you think before you act. I see you have a very scholarly nature about you, Mr. Chang, which makes you destined for..._**

"RAVENCLAW!"

Wufei removed the Hat from his head, shooting Trowa a quick glare. "You couldn't have spared a few more words to explain that this thing burrows through your mind?"

Trowa shrugged again. "Told you."

Wufei snorted, immediately passing the thing to Winner before moving away. Maxwell gave him a cheery smile.

"Knew you're a closet bookworm." Maxwell snickered.

"Better that than an idiot like you, Maxwell," Wufei retorted.

"Oi, I'm hurt. Hit me right here, it did."

----------

When Quatre slipped the Hat over his head, he was the first to broach the silence with a somewhat hesitant, _Hello?_

Thankfully, the reply was somewhat expected. **_Hello. My, you're a polite one. Such a pleasant change. How are you, Mr. Winner?_**

_I'm quite well now, thank you._

**_Of course you are! That is, now that you have the one whose heart you desire with you. _**Quatre felt his cheeks heat up, and he looked at Trowa guiltily from beneath his lashes. The Hat chuckled. **_Hm. Now let's see... Very polite and unassuming... Why, you'd make a very pleasant politician, wouldn't you? Alas, very few of your nature like to pursue a career in politics -some would view such a vocation as a Slytherin's ambition. Hmm... Yes, you aren't afraid to get your hands dirty to benefit the world, are you, lad? Kind, patient... I have just the place for you._**

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"As if there was a doubt," Duo said cheerfully, winking at Quatre as he pulled the Hat from his head and handed it to Heero. Quatre beamed at Duo's remark.

----------

_**How enigmatic...**_

_Hn. What's enigmatic about it? You put me where I belong._

_**Oh, but Mr. Yuy, it's much more than that! You are the embodiment of cunning and bravery, ambition and daring. Very rarely do I see these qualities come together, and only in very peculiar people. Our very own Mr. Potter, for one... In fact, you remind me much of Mr. Potter, Mr. Yuy, except... on the opposite spectrum. You see, he too saved the world, some would think. Whereas he is uncertain about his own abilities, you are very confident in your competence. So I think I shall sort you into...**_

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Aw," Duo whined. "Hee-chan, I was sure you'd be in Gryffindor!"

"Hn," Heero grunted, giving the smiling Headmaster the Hat. "Gryffindor was a strong second."

"That's typical," Duo groused. "You always have to be so damn difficult."

Heero smirked. "You like me that way."

"You're making fun of me."

"Yes."

Duo sighed whimsically. "Ah, I missed you guys."

"Wish the same could be said for us," Wufei said with a smirk. "Of course, we missed Quatre a great deal..."

"Don't be cruel, Wufei," Quatre said warmly. "We were very concerned about Duo when he stopped sending us correspondence."

Duo grinned. "Aw, you _do_ love me!"

"Like toe fungus."

"You like toe fungus?"

"What? _No!_ Maxwell, don't be disgusting!"

"Says the guy who likes toe fungus."

Dumbledore cleared his throat pointedly, suppressing an amused smile. The formerly silent boy -Harry Potter, he said his name was- wasn't half as candid about his apparent amusement. The green-eyed wizard was outwardly snickering at Duo and Wufei's nearly constant bickering.

"Well, I do believe it is almost curfew," Dumbledore remarked casually. "Your Heads of House will lead you to your common rooms. Until tomorrow morning, I bid you all a pleasant night."

_**End Chapter Ten**_

* * *

**__**

**The Sorting and Why:**

**Putting them all in one house is just so overused. I mean, come on! Their personalities are just so different that the likelihood of this happening is next to nil!**

**_Trowa_- SO Slytherin. I don't know why people put him in Hufflepuff. (Probably to be with Quatre.) They say Slytherins make the best spies, and Trowa is ACE at espionage.**

**_Quatre_ -Hufflepuff is a given. Just like Duo said. Well, actually... yeah, he might make a good Gryffindor too. If he were meaner, I swear he'd be a great Slytherin. Wait... destroyed a colony... Hm. It's the nice ones you have to really consider...**

**_Wufei_ -Before he was a warrior for truth and justice, the guy was all Mr. Scholarly Pants. Ergo, Ravenclaw. Though he would have made a brilliant Gryffindor. I struggled a bit with this one. I decided Fei-fei needs to go back to his roots just a little.**

**_Heero_ -Now, I debated for a while as to whether I should put him in Gryffindor with Duo, or Slytherin. I decided that, just for a bit of extra spice, I'd put him in Slytherin. I see Heero as a very goal-oriented guy, Mr. All About The Mission. He's cold, he's calculating, he's Slytherin. Aside from the pesky bravery and willingness to throw his life away over matters small and large... (Self-destructing, saving the world... Not great Slytherin stuff, but... eh. :_shrugs_:) It's my fic, and... :_whips_ _out artistic license_: God, I love this thing.**

**I would like to take this opportunity to again point out that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Houses ARE NOT USELESS CANNON FODDER. Slytherin is NOT a production factory for the wicked, and Gryffindor doesn't always turn out good apples. LABELS SUCK! Thank you.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Eleven**_

_The moment Draco saw his father prancing around in a pink frock with a white bonnet hiding the man's long, pale hair, the Malfoy heir knew that he was in for a strange dream._

_His father looked at him solemnly and said gravely, "In God we trust; all other's must pay cash.(1)" Which didn't make sense, really; Lucius Malfoy wasn't what one would call a religious man, especially when the muggles' god came up._

"_What?" Draco asked, dumbfounded. Then a tree ate his father._

"_Thanks," Draco said, "but now I'll never get my pony."_

"_You're welcome," the tree replied. "But why would you want a pony when you can't even take care of your cat?"_

_The tree had a good point._

_So Draco wandered through the thick purple foliage of the jungle, thinking that it would be quite nice if he had a map until he stumbled upon some archaic temple with intricate carvings all over the walls. When he payed closer attention to the carvings as he traveled up the lengthy stone steps, he was both shocked and amused to notice that the carvings depicted different people participating in the act of fornication. There even looked to be one of a man having sexual relations with what could have been a sheep, or a really fluffy dog._

_He couldn't help but wonder if one of Maxwell's ancestors had a hand in that._

_When he walked into the cavernous room, there was someone there, kneeling in front of three rows of candles; some had been lit, and some had not._

"_Hn," the other boy said. "Omae o korosu."_

_Draco was confused. "What? Hey, where am I?"_

"_Arkansas," the boy replied flatly. "Baka." And then he disappeared._

"_Hey, wait!... Bloody hell, where is Arkansas?"_

"_Arkansas is here, but not really," came another voice. Draco turned to see a rather rotund man wearing a loin cloth sitting on an unadorned pedestal. The bald, fat Asian man was smiling quite cheerfully at the Malfoy heir._

"_Ew," Draco said, making a face. "Put a shirt on."_

"_In this heat?" the man laughed jovially, his belly rippling. "I'll pass."_

_It was around that point that an entire chorus line of identical skinnier bald Asian men (that, strangely enough, resembled the fat one a lot) pranced from the dark entryways surrounding the room. They all linked elbows and began kicking their skinny legs in the air. Right knee, right leg. Left knee, left leg. They continued on in that pattern as they sang in harmony._

"_Oh, I wish I were an Os-car Mayer Wie-ner!_

_That is what I'd tru-ly like to be._

'_Cause if I were an Os-car May-er Wie-ner,_

_Ev-ery one would be in love with me!"_

"_Who is this Oscar Mayer," Draco demanded irritably, "and why does everyone want to be his wiener?"_

"_That is a question to be asked another day, little fox," said one skinny man._

"_I'm not a fox," Draco replied, "I'm a person!"_

"_And I'm not a person," said the same man, "I'm a dog." And he was._

_Draco turned from the dog, whose tail was wagging happily as his tongue lolled out from the side of his grinning maw, to glare at the smiling fat man. "What's this all about? Tell me!"_

_The jolly man grinned and held out both hands. "A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand."_

"_That diet doesn't seem to be working out for you," Draco pointed out scathingly._

"_That's what you think," the man said nonchalantly before he stuffed one of the cookies into his mouth. "Draco, wake up!"_

"_What?"(2)_

"Draco! Wake up!"

Draco found himself in the land of the waking once again, blinking dazedly up at the familiar stone ceiling above his bed. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Vincent had taken the liberty of pulling the green drapes around his bed to peek down at Draco. The Malfoy heir was so relieved at having been torn from his dream that he didn't even bother scolding Vincent for that minor infraction of privacy.

"What?" Draco snapped testily, sitting up.

"Professor Snape wants you downstairs. Millicent went to get Pansy, too."

Draco sniffed, yanking the drape to the side violently as he slid from his bed. He hazily recalled he'd been so exhausted after the events of the day that he'd simply thrown himself in bed and fell to sleep without bothering to even kick off his shoes. He paused before the mirror, taking the time to make sure his hair was in perfect order before he left the dorm room. Before he left, he noticed something odd in the reflection of the room behind him.

"Vince," Draco said slowly, "why are there two new beds in here?"

"What?"

"I said -never mind. How could you-" Not notice there were seven beds where there had always been five? "Never mind. Look, Vince -count the beds."

Vincent turned and looked, counting the beds slowly before a look of confusion came over his face. The look was oddly identical to the look that tended to overcast his face during most classes. "There are seven."

"Yes, Vince. There are seven."

"But there are only five of us."

Draco counted to ten. Patience, he knew. Patience with Vincent. It wasn't Vincent's fault Crabbe Senior went and married his first cousin. "Right, Vince. And Snape wants to talk to me and Pansy, the sixth year prefects, downstairs. What conclusion can you draw from this?"

Vincent thought about it. "That... we have two new students?"

"Phrase it in the form of an answer, Vince."

"That we have two new students," Vincent repeated.

"That's right, Vince. Very good."

Vincent grinned proudly. Draco could only hope that teaching the other how to draw accurate conclusions would help him actually survive in the real world.

"But why would we have two new students in the middle of the first semester?"

"That's what I'm about to find out, hopefully," Draco replied before leaving his dorm room.

Not many people knew or realized that the Slytherin dorm rooms were actually _below_ the common room, which was part of the dungeons, but they wouldn't have been surprised by it. What would have surprised many was the fact that, even though a Slytherin had to walk downstairs to get to his or her dorm room, Slytherins still resided in one of the seven towers of Hogwarts. For some reason, Slytherins had a lot of trouble explaining this to the scant few muggleborns that were worthy enough to be Sorted into Slytherin.

"As the sixth year prefects, I wanted to inform you personally that we have two new students joining Slytherin House," Snape said, cutting right to the chase.

"Either of them girls?" Pansy asked. She'd always been quite miffed that the boy-girl ratio of Slytherin was five to three. Draco had offered them Blaise to even things up, but that one joke on Blaise's feminine appearance got his bed short-sheeted once.

"No," Snape replied, "both are male."

"Why do we get two new students in the middle of the year?" Draco asked.

"They're from the colonies," Snape replied with a tone that clearly stated he wanted no more questions about the matter. "In fact, they're friends of Maxwell's."

Friends of Maxwell's. "Spirits preserve us," Draco muttered wearily.

"We seemed to have gotten off light," Snape replied grudgingly. "Both are nothing like that walking disaster. I want you two to ignore any odd quirks about them, and encourage the rest of Slytherin House to do the same."

"Yes, sir."

"Of course, Professor."

"Good. Wait here while I retrieve them." With a billow of his black robes, he turned on his heels and went toward the common room entrance at a steady pace.

"Odd," Pansy murmured.

"What's odd," Draco murmured back, "is that, instead of answering my question, Severus simply told us where they are from. He's never directly avoided answering my questions before."

Pansy squealed quietly as she glanced over Draco's shoulder. "Oooh! They're so _cute_!"

Oh, spirits. Draco sighed and braved a glance. They _were_ cute, damn it all -one was taller than the other, with light brown hair that fell over one side of his handsome face, leaving only one green eye to look into. He was wearing odd muggle clothes; those blue jean things, which always looked so _tight_ to Draco, and a turtle neck jumper that fairly clung to his torso and arms. The other had a darker complexion, with messy chocolate brown hair and solemn Prussian eyes. He, too, wore those jean-trouser things with a rather revealing sleeveless, low-neck olive green shirt.

"These are the Slytherin prefects for your year," Snape said without preamble. "This is Draco Malfoy, and her name is Pansy Parkinson. Malfoy, Parkinson, this is Heero Yuy," a wave toward the shorter of the two, "and Trowa Barton. I'll leave you two to inform them of the rules and how things are done in Slytherin House."

"Yes, Professor," Pansy murmured demurely. Snape nodded once, sharply, before leaving.

"Something's got his knickers in a twist," Draco commented.

"Ew, Draco," Pansy muttered faintly. "I don't want to think about the man's knickers."

"Just yesterday you were admiring his bum, and now you don't want to think about his knickers?"

"That was you," Pansy shot back with a smirk. Damn her.

"Welcome to Slytherin House," Draco said flatly. "If you bother asking anyone from any other house at Hogwarts, they'll tell you we're all a bunch of vile, evil little cockroaches with no remorse for who we exploit, and our places in Hell have been reserved ever since we were old enough to talk."

"They're probably right," Pansy said with a shrug. "We don't know, and we don't care. Our House motto is 'admit nothing, deny everything, and make counter-accusations.'"

"A close second is 'if you can smile when something goes wrong, you have someone in mind to blame.'" Draco waved a hand around. "This is the Slytherin common room. As you can see, it's empty. That's because curfew is in five minutes, and students either finishing their homework or doing something nefarious elsewhere. Fellow Slytherins usually don't care what you do unless you get caught."

"Snape will warn you twice if you're caught out after curfew," Pansy added. "Any other professor will dole out punishment as due. Because of the social situations in the wizarding world, many professors will demand what you're doing, so be cautious if you have to be out after curfew. Slytherins have the label of being potential Death Eaters, so getting caught outside after curfew will immediately put you on a list of Students Who Might Be Death Eaters, and then you'll be watched closely."

"Boys can't enter the girls dormitory, which is located to the left," Draco pointed. "However, apparently boys are allowed to invite girls into their dorms, which is the staircase to the right. Either that, or the higher ups haven't quite figured this whole hormonal thing out yet. Either way, if you must have female company and require privacy, it's an unwritten rule for the other boys to vacate the dorm."

"Slytherin House is like your family," Pansy added. "That means even if we don't like someone in this house, we'll rally to their side in an instant. No one else will stick up for us, so we stick up for each other. Don't bother mistaking that for loyalty. We're just as quick to twist the knife on one we don't like."

"Keep the internal quarrels private," Draco said. "We're a close-knit band, and we don't like our inner battles aired to the rest of the houses."

"If you have any questions," Pansy said, "feel free to ask someone _that you trust_ within the House. Prefects are safe bets to getting your questions truthfully answered. It's best that you keep your possessions in your dorm or in your trunk. Slytherins have a strict finders-keepers policy. If one is dense enough to leave his or her possessions out for anyone to find, then it is clear to the finder that one does not deserve it. You should ward your trunk, as well. Some less scrupulous Slytherins will go to lengths to find something to borrow without any intention of bringing anything back."

"Another unwritten rule," Draco said, "is to be patient when someone is not too quick on the uptake. Inbreeding is most likely the culprit to a lot of rampant stupidity around here. If you can't exercise patience, ignore them."

"We'll take you to the sixth year boys dormitory," Pansy said. They took the steps downward and walked down a short hallway before they hit the door marked _Sixth Years_. When they entered, the dorm appeared to be empty save for Blaise, who appeared to be reading a book before he went to bed.

"Hey, did you know we have two extra beds in here?" Blaise commented, not even looking up from his apparently entrancing passage.

"I noticed," Draco commented dully. "Barton, Yuy, this is Blaise Zabini, the second vainest guy in Slytherin."

"Second only to you, Malfoy," Blaise quipped, glancing up with interest. He made a sour face when he saw the two quiet students. Draco absently noted that he hadn't heard a peep out of them since they entered the common room. "Oh, spirits. More good-looking ones."

Draco smirked at Blaise's displeasure. "Ignore him. He likes to consider himself the cutest boy around, and he feels threatened when there are others to challenge his position. The beds without trunks at the end of them are yours. Your other dorm mates are Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, and myself. Theo's probably out making his rounds with his various prospective girlfriends, so you probably won't meet him until morning. Vince and Greg are... wherever they go when their not here. Probably the kitchens." Or bullying one of the lower years out of their sweets. That was probably the case, since Draco didn't see the two leave.

"Hn," the shorter of the two grunted, walking toward the window and peering out. "We're in the dungeons."

"Technically," Pansy replied. "Only in that you go through the dungeons to get to the common room. We're in Slytherin Tower."

"That's illogical," the taller boy murmured.

"What are you, muggles?" Draco said. He didn't receive an answer. That was alright; he didn't really expect one. "You go through the dungeons to get to Slytherin Tower. What's illogical about it?"

"It's against the laws of physics, for one," the shorter one -Yuy, by Snape's indication- replied evenly. "We came downstairs. We should be below the dungeons, not in a tower."

"Physics?" Blaise questioned nonchalantly. "That's a muggle science. The thing you have to realize around here is that science and magic clash. You're in the wizarding world now. Science doesn't apply here."

Yuy's left eye twitched.

Barton said, "Wufei would be frothing at the mouth at such a declaration."

Oddly enough, Yuy smirked.

----------

"What do you mean, science doesn't apply here! Science applies to _everything_!"

Mandy Brocklehurst found herself sighing at the exclamation. Finally, someone who saw where she was coming from. Most of Ravenclaw House consisted of mostly halfbloods and purebloods, so it was hard to discuss the conflicts between hard science and magic with anyone else.

"That's something I've been saying for years," Mandy replied. "I'm muggleborn, and both of my parents are scientists. If it hadn't been for McGonagall showing up at my house personally, my parents would have put off my invitation to Hogwarts as a joke. They can still hardly accept this 'malarkey', as they put it, as fact."

"Hmph," Chang Wufei grunted gruffly, crossing his arms stiffly. "Even something as improbable as magic is hard to dispute when one finds himself casting spells. Even so, I'm sure if someone tried to examine it close enough, magic is, boiled down to the basic principles, still just a science. An undiscovered science, but science nonetheless."

"That's an interesting theory," Terry Boot said, "but it's just that -a theory. Mandy's tried to explain this science stuff before, but most of it really doesn't apply to magic. Take flying, for example."

"Flying? Please. Muggles have been studying aerodynamics since de Vinci's time(3)," Wufei said scoffingly.

"Not on broomsticks," Mandy said with a shrug. "Personally, I think that has something to do with something akin to telekinesis. The more telekinetic one is, the better they fly. The same concept could apply to summoning charms, floating charms, Mobiliuscorpus, and various other spells and hexes."

"That doesn't make sense," Sally-Anne Perks pointed out. "Granger's fairly proficient at Charms, but she is poor at flying."

"Granger's afraid of heights," Mandy argued reasonably. "I've heard her say so. That could influence her ability to fly a broomstick."

"So what you're saying is that one's ability to cast magic is all psychological," Wufei said slowly, clearly turning the idea in his head. "Magic... it's like bending the very laws of reality and testing the fabric of science with one's will and-or mind alone. Tell me, on'na -has either of your parents ever decided to do a full CAT scan of your brain?"

"No," Mandy replied with a small frown. "So you think wizards and witches can do what they do because we use more then ten percent of our brains?"

"Think about it," Wufei said forcefully. "Most of a human being's brain is what we -I mean, muggles call grey matter. If even one man or woman could somehow unlock the mystery of the functions of our grey matter, it's theorized that humans could do extraordinary things. A doctor once told me that an unusual amount of my brain was active, but seemed to be dormant. The Headmaster explained that colonists who had the potential to be wizards couldn't use their magic because they were not part of Earth, where they belong."

"Then, psychologically, we have ties to the earth," Mandy mused. Interesting. "Some scientists have proven that, in cases where caucasians are submerged in sensory deprivation tanks, their circadian rhythm has a frequency of 24 hours and 40 minutes, which is not the rotational period of Earth, but Mars."

Wufei appeared surprised as he glanced over Mandy. "I've heard of that, yes. Taking that into account, I would think that the concept of magic would work on any planet that could sustain life, like Mars once was."(4)

"But not on a colony," Mandy responded enthusiastically, "because colonies, while habitable, are still simulations of day-to-day Earth living."

"Exactly," Wufei said with a nod. He offered his hand to her. "Chang Wufei."(5)

"Mandy Brocklehurst," Mandy said, shaking his hand confidently. She was pleased to find that his handshake was good and solid; most of the time when a man shook her hand, his grip was rather lackluster, as if he was afraid he'd break her dainty wrist should he try too hard. "A pleasure, truly. I've been dying to hash out my theories with someone for years now."

"Glad I could be of service."

----------

Ponoma Sprout was ecstatic. Thrilled. There were no bounds to how happy she was.

Out of all of the new students, she managed to land the one who was less likely to A) commit homicide, B) rant and rave about every little thing, C) be antisocial, and (most importantly) D) blow up one of her greenhouses.

Her poor plants...

In fact, Quatre Winner was the epitome of all things polite, kind, and sweet. The blond was cordial, intelligent, and sociable. With his wide, teal eyes, slight frame, and golden blond hair, the boy had every appearance of an angel. She knew the students of her house were going to adore him, and he was going to make many friends.

She couldn't fathom how someone so courteous ever met Duo Maxwell. The Maxwell boy meant well, he really did... but he was simply too unbridled in his mischief. She could only hope that Quatre's constant presence would somehow curb Duo's untamed desire to unintentionally cause chaos. However, she somehow knew her hope was in vain.

"Quatre," Ponoma said with a smile, "this is Ernie Macmillion and Susan Bones, the sixth year Hufflepuff prefects. Ernie, Susan, this is Quatre Winner. He'll be joining Hufflepuff."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Quatre said politely, beaming at Ernie and Susan. Ponoma saw that Susan's heart had immediately melted, and Ernie was taken with the blond's cheerful nature. Yes, Quatre would be a delightful addition to Hufflepuff House.(6)

----------

"Psst. Psst! Ron!"

"Uh...?" Ron lifted his head blearily, resisting the urge to glare at Duo for waking him up. The boy appeared absolutely thrilled about something. The redhead yawned. "What is it, mate?"

"I need your help," Duo whispered. "Have you ever heard of cherry bombs?"

"Are they anything like dung bombs?"

"Erm -no, I don't think so. I need to test out a theory. See, Mione got me thinking about the differences between muggles and wizards, and I want to find out if flushing cherry bombs down the toilet can be traced back to me. You in?"

Ron's interest was piqued. "What do these cherry bomb things do?"

"Make big booms."

Neither Ron or Duo had taken into account that the water pipes of the school were very old, and therefore prone to being weak against said big booms.

----------

"Due to an unexplained accident that resulted in the school's main water pipe bursting, Hogwarts is officially short of water until the problem can be found and fixed. The staff has suggested that in order to preserve our available water supply, students will have to cut their showers into a strict time limit of four minutes."

"Snape will be helping out a lot," Harry whispered to Ron, who was staring guiltily at his breakfast. "He doesn't ever take showers."

Oddly enough, Harry had noticed that most of Duo's friends were shooting him some very suspicious glares, and Quatre was looking towards the American with a sad, disapproving look on his face. Duo was doing very well in ignoring it all, choosing to instead cheerfully woof down his breakfast.

Dumbledore paused in his speech. "One student was thoughtful enough to make a suggestion of his own. In his wisdom, he has said, 'if it is yellow, let it mellow. If it is brown, flush it down.(7)'"

Silence.

"That's disgusting," Hermione whispered, appalled.

Duo grinned. Harry had a good idea who the thoughtful student was. By the glares that same student was receiving from his friends, Harry also had a good idea who was responsible for the busted pipe in the first place.

"Thank you for listening. You may return to your meal."

And once again began another day at Hogwarts.

_**End Chapter Eleven**_

* * *

**__**

**(1) I actually cracked open a fortune cookie one day, and my fortune was that. It appealed to my inner comedian and wormed its way into my fic.**

**(2) This whole dream sequence was something that came from my own fragile little mind a few weeks ago. (The 'fat man' is Buddha, and the skinny men are 'skinny Buddhas', if you didn't pick up on that.) I woke up and found myself caught somewhere between complete amusement that something like this can putt around in my head when I'm practically comatose, and utter horror... for basically the same reason.**

**(3) Leonardo de Vinci technically developed the first flying machines; the sketches are in his journals. A lot of the prototypes used in attempting to fly came from de Vinci's journals, if I'm not mistaken.**

**(4) (What did you expect? They're RAVENCLAWS!) It's long, it involves a lot of aerophysics, and it's dry to read about. I find it fascinating, of course, simply by the fact that it's _really_ controversial. I'll try to summarize it for you: white people come from Mars. African-Americans come from Earth. Earth used to be closer to the sun, which is why African-Americans have such dark skin; it was their defense against the sun. Then Jupiter careened into this galaxy, and a piece of Jupiter broke off and became Venus. Venus actually collided with Mars (which used to be where present-day Earth is), therefore destroying Mars' entire atmosphere and decimating the "life" on that planet. (I'd like to point out that life on Mars _has_ been proven; there are small single-celled organisms residing in the dirt there.) Meanwhile, there were white people who'd come to Earth to war with the African Americans, and this left them stranded on Earth. (Technology was apparently more advanced, but completely wiped out during the Dark Ages.) Venus rotated around Earth for several days (in fact, this is where the whole thing about Lucifer comes into play; the 'light bringer' appeared as a bright light in the sky, day and night) which effectively _pulled_ Earth into the orbit it is in today. Venus, made largely of ice, is also responsible for the ice at the poles. See? Controversial. It's not exactly a widely-accepted theory. I live for stuff like this. In any case, it's in an e-book called Biggest World Secrets. If you live for controversy (like I do), or if you're a conspiracy theorist (not really my cup of tea; I already think Fate is out to get me, I don't need the world joining in, as well), and you have time to kill, go and read it.**

**(5) If you haven't caught it, this entire thing is very phenomenal in regards to Wufei, whose a sexist idiot on his better days. :_grins_: Since Mandy was basically able to keep up with what he was saying, even going as far as adding her own input, she garnered a lot of respect from him. (Well, a lot considering she's got breasts and no dangly bits.) He probably won't call her "on'na" unless he's vexed. Introducing himself with a handshake is his subtle way of saying "you're worthy".**

**(6) I took less time introducing Quatre to Hogwarts because I've basically already covered that in previous chapters.**

**(7) :_bursts out laughing_: Oh, my God, can you just imagine _Dumbledore_, of all people, saying this! Oh, it hurts! It hurts so _good_! Bwahahahahahahahahah!**


	12. Chapter Twelve

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twelve**_

Until the four newest additions to Hogwarts student body could be accurately termed 'caught up', a rigorous schedule had been set up for them. Until the time came for them to join their rightful year, professors would tutor the four students in their free time. This displeased few; they were wizards, after all, and wizards needed to be taught. Only Snape had something discouraging to say about any of it, but, then again, when didn't Snape have something discouraging to say about anything?

They were all pleasantly surprised that the four Gundam pilots always seemed two steps ahead of the professors rigorous lesson plans. What they didn't know was that Wufei, in his typical wisdom, had borrowed notes from the previous years from his fellow Ravenclaw, and Quatre had the foresight to do the same. Trowa and Heero were less scrupulous in their 'burrowing'; when the rules of Slytherin House had been explained to them, they simply took the notes as they saw fit. It wasn't their fault if their fellow Slytherins' things were not properly warded, and as it was an unwritten rule to take what one needed, they didn't see a problem with it.

Pansy still could not figure out just how a boy had managed to rummage through her trunk; however, she couldn't very well prove that it was her notes that Heero or Trowa had pilfered. How could she explain how a boy could go into the Slytherin girls dormitory when no other male student had succeeded in such a daring feat? She silently applauded their cunning and at once declared them worthy of the house Slytherin, even if they sometimes came off a bit mugglish.

Draco had to admit quite grudgingly that, yes, the newest additions to Slytherin House had guts. His trunk -which, if he did say so himself, was so heavily warded that Voldemort himself would probably have a fair amount of trouble cracking the system- happened to be the second unfortunate victim of theft.

Time passed, as time was meant to do; as November befell the country, there came the first snowfall of the year. Duo wouldn't have it any other way.

"Snow!" he crowed excitedly as the first flakes fell. "Look, Harry -snow!"

"Yes, Duo," Harry said in amusement, stifling a laugh when a sleep-deprived Ron shot a grumpy glare at the excitable American's back as the braided boy nearly pressed his face against the windowpane that was quickly frosting over. "Snow. White fluffy bits of ice that falls from the sky, coincidentally at one o'clock in the morning." Thus the reason for Ron's acidic stare.

"I call dibs on Heero, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei!"

"Dibs for what?" Seamus asked contentiously, peaking a single bloodshot eye from his cocoon of blankets.

"Why, the massive all-out snowball fight we're holding tomorrow," Duo said with a gleam in his eyes. "We're going to _slaughter_ you!"

And they did just that. Seamus, Dean, Ron, Harry, and Neville all walked away from the snowball war, soundly thrashed and soaked thoroughly in melted snow, but they were all in surprisingly good spirits. Harry was surprised Ron didn't make a big deal about being beaten by two Slytherins and hoped that meant the redhead was at least warming up to the idea that all Slytherins weren't as bad as everyone made them out to be.

To Harry's private shock, he found himself following that same method. Duo's friends had taken to gathering in the Gryffindor common room, and damn what anybody else had to say about it. Ron had been disgruntled to find that there were _Slytherins_, bloody _Slytherins_ in the blessed domain of the Gryffindors, and he ranted loudly about the injustices of it all, damn anyone who would hear. Instead of angering Duo, as Harry thought it would, the braided American boy burst out laughing, falling off the couch and rolling on the ground as he clutched his sides, shrieking, "Oh, _God_, it hurts! It _hurts_!"

Harry hadn't known what that was all about, and Duo couldn't explain it any further than, "Injustice! Ah! Ahahahah!" Eventually he found out the source of Duo's amusement one evening when Wufei's temper exploded into a fiery windstorm.

"Werewolves, subhuman! Kisama! People are being hunted and ridiculed for an unfortunate incident that they have no control over! There is no honor in this! They should be considered as innocent victims fallen prey to an unfortunate disease! _Injustice_!"

Apparently such things were so common, coming from the collected Chinese boy, that when Duo would hear the word 'injustice', he immediately burst out laughing. Harry thought it was all very strange to be amused by, but... Well, it was _Duo_.

It was Quatre that Ron got along with the most. Whenever the blond happened to be in the Gryffindor common room, he was almost always seen sitting across from the redhead, thoroughly enthralled in a game of chess.

"Bloody brilliant, he is," Ron admitted grudgingly, staring at the chess board long after Quatre had left. "This is the seventh game, and still we ended in a stalemate! I just can't seem to figure out his strategy at all, but he has no problem breaking mine. Every time I've developed a new strategy that I'm bloody positive is failsafe, too..."

Trowa and Heero, though... Well, Ron was slowly warming up to them. "Barton's so quiet that it's hard to remember he's here, and that Yuy guy is downright creepy! But the way Duo always hangs all over him, like he's some... person?" Ron looked at Hermione imploringly. "I know he's a person, but... I dunno, he acts so cold..."

"Heero's of a different nationality than us, Ron," Hermione reminded the redhead primly behind her book. "He's Japanese, and they're far more reserved than Westerners are. Consider Wufei; he's always so wrapped up in honor and justice because he was raised to consider these things." She scowled absently at her book as she roughly turned the page. "Unfortunately, that's also where he happens to get his sexism, as well."

Oh, yes... Wufei had not made the greatest impression on Hermione ever since she found out what "on'na" really meant, and why Wufei always called her that.

"Please don't be insulted, Hermione," Quatre had said imploringly the moment Duo told her, quite frankly, that Wufei kept calling her 'woman'. "Wufei's demeanor is because of his culture. On his colony, he was taught that women were the weaker sex, and that they were to be protected. Wufei simply thinks he's reminding you of your place; he doesn't mean anything by it."

"What kind of out-dated colony does that sexist, chauvinistic pig come from, still teaching people that sort of thing?" Hermione had demanded hotly. "Women are just as capable as men!"

Even Duo sobered at that. "Wufei is... was of L5," Duo had murmured, picking at his nails absently.

Hermione had paled instantly, the wind in her sails promptly dying. "Oh... I'm sorry to hear that."

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"L5 was destroyed almost a year ago," Quatre said simply. "Wufei is the only survivor."

"That... bloody bites, mate," Ron said sympathetically, glancing over at the Chinese boy who was in a seemingly heated discussion with some of the Ravenclaws in his year. Surprisingly, his only backup seemed to be a Ravenclaw girl Harry vaguely recognized as Mandy Brocklehurst.

This sad announcement curbed Hermione's temper for all of thirty minutes, up until the point Wufei joined the Gryffindor table with Mandy in tow. Hermione had said something that made the nerve under Wufei's eye tick dangerously, and the boy said with an air of superiority, "A woman's feet are small and delicate simply for the benefit of standing closer to the stove, on'na."

Surprisingly, Mandy had found this hilarious, and continued laughing even after Hermione had introduced the cover of her thick book to Wufei's skull.(1)

Harry thought that putting Heero and Trowa in Slytherin was a terrible mistake; though cunning and resourceful, neither boys seemed to really emit any Slytherin qualities of which he knew personally. Again, he was surprised; even Malfoy tended to treat the two with a sort of silent respect, and both boys were about as muggle as they came.

Which, of course, always brought Harry's thoughts back to Draco. Malfoy. Whatever.

Actually, Harry couldn't seem to get the Malfoy heir out of his mind. The blond had almost been flying below the radar since... since the beginning of the year. Harry didn't know what was worse -the fact that Malfoy had been ignoring him, or the constant worry that Malfoy was up to something big. In any case, he found himself studying the dynamics of Slytherin House thoroughly, and he found a lot that surprised him.

A lot had surprised him since introducing Duo and his friends to Hogwarts. Harry wasn't sure he liked it or not, but he had decided long ago to simply go with the flow. He had a feeling it was the only way in which he could remain sane.

Slytherins tended to work intricately, sometimes in some sort of unit Harry could never really hash out. Malfoy and Zabini tended to be more amicable than the two let on; "why" was becoming one of those annoying words that he was starting to despise. There was definitely tension between Malfoy and some seventh year Slytherin Harry didn't know. And where Zabini always seemed to be Malfoy's right-hand man, Pansy -whom Harry had always regarded as a simpering sycophant- was Malfoy's left-hand cohort. Harry also found it odd that Malfoy never seemed to lose his temper with Crabbe and Goyle when he thought no one was paying attention; a lot of the time, Malfoy could be clearly seen across the hall, patiently explaining something or another using expressive hand gestures and simple words.

Another thing Harry noticed about Malfoy -the blond Slytherin Prince, always considered the embodiment of all that was Slytherin, used his entire body to emphasize a point or to bring a concept across. It was... enduring. It made Malfoy seem more human than Harry would usually give him credit for. Malfoy was just that type of person that if one wanted to shut him up, instead of gagging him, one would simply have to tie his hands down. His feet, as well. Harry once caught the Slytherin rhythmically but silently tapping his foot as he worked over a problem on a written test in Potions.

The Malfoy heir had a most vexing habit of trying to play with his hair. Harry just wanted to scream, "For Merlin's sake, stop gelling it and twirl it to your heart's content, you silly sod!" But, then again, that would give away the fact that Malfoy was being watched. Sometimes Malfoy would play with a strand of hair so often that it would lose its stiffness and fall forward into his face, fluttering and rippling softly at each little movement and slight breeze. Once Harry had caught himself making a vow to sneak into the Slytherin dorms and disposing of any and all hair gel, just so he could see the blond without.

_Since when have I been so obsessed with the texture of Malfoy's hair? _he asked himself irritably.

_Since you started watching him like a bloody hawk, you silly sod, _answered another part of him. _Would you like for me to recite the rather sappy sonnet you've constructed about the soft, mercury-like quality of his eyes, then?_

"Alright there, Harry?" Seamus asked cheerfully, glancing Harry over curiously as the green-eyed boy hacked up his left lung.

"Swallowed wrong," Harry rasped. Once he recovered, he glanced at Seamus. "Hey, Zabini still sits by you in Potions, right? Ever found out what he's up to?"

Seamus turned pink in the cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled around his fork. "Pass the peas, will you?"

Harry did as he was asked and let the subject die.

----------

Not for the first time, Draco glanced up from contemplating his plate to scowl.

"Is something the matter?" Trowa asked, calmly slicing into his roast beef.

"Ever get the sinking suspicion that you're being watched?" Draco asked flatly. Trowa simply tilted his head to the side, and Heero merely gifted the Malfoy heir with slight interest. "I'm having one of those moments." Again. For the fifth time that week.

"You're just being paranoid," Zabini said dismissively.

"Hn," the Japanese boy grunted and, sounding like the paragon of wisdom incarnate, he pointed out logically, "It's not paranoia if it's true."

Draco stared at Heero. "Oh, that's made me feel loads better."

Trowa smirked. "Hmm. Astute, though."

"Hn."

Draco realized, not for the first time, that despite being so different from Maxwell, the Gryffindor's Slytherin friends were just as weird as he was.

On that thought, Draco had to completely reconsider Maxwell -that guy _belonged_ in Gryffindor, with the brass set of knackers he carted around. Draco hadn't realized it until the first time Maxwell had trounced over to the Slytherin table, throwing himself bodily into Heero's lap. Almost everyone had frozen, staring first at the expressionless, seemingly dangerous boy to the American who was prettily fluttering his eyelashes up at him.

"Oi, Hee-chan," Maxwell had murmured huskily, his voice almost the texture of silk, "E-6."

"Hn," the Japanese boy had grunted, calmly eating as if he hadn't had a lapful of Gryffindor hindering his view of his plate. "Miss. D-2."

"Damn it!" Maxwell had pouted. "You sunk my battleship!"

Draco didn't know what that was all about; all he remembered about the occasion was that he couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh at the utter inanity of it, or cry in his porridge.

"So, Heero," Blaise murmured, casually considering a speared carrot on his fork, "that braid of Maxwell's... it really is like a leash?"

"Yes." Short and to the point; Yuy never cut the fat.

"So anyone can just give it a tug and... what, he heels?" a rather stupid seventh year lackey of McAllistar's snorted.

Heero Glared. No -the expression on Heero's face could never be disgraced with anything short of a capital G. Heero _Glared_, and the sooner people realized this, the more lives would be spared. Heero's Glares said a great many things, once one could bother learning the secret language. Maxwell had tried to explain it to Draco, of course -something about "ensuring that at least one of you can read the signs when Hee-chan's getting upset; and an upset Heero Yuy is nobody's friend. Well, an upset Heero Yuy is nobody's rotting corpse, anyway." In any case, Draco learned after that unfortunate episode with Anderson and the... rather creative use of something that Draco was informed, after the fact, was used to grate cheese.

Madam Pomfrey had high hopes that Anderson would be out of St. Mungo's and recuperating with his family in several weeks. Heero probably would have been expelled... but no one was willing to come forward and point fingers at the stoic Japanese boy. And, truthfully, no one liked Anderson unless their name happened to be Anderson.

Draco hadn't become quite proficient in reading Heero's Glares, but if he had to take a poke at it, he would say this was somewhere between "you better hope I never find out where you sleep because there will be explosives involved" and "I know five hundred ways to kill with my pinky finger, and I've put them all to the test but one; guinea pig, much?" However, if Draco tilted his head to the side _just_ so, he thought he saw faint traces of "I'll save you the trouble and money of having that sex change spell with a quick flick of a knife."

"Try it and I'll kill you," Heero said with a sneer. "If Duo doesn't manage it first."

By the look on the seventh year's face, he'd probably be wetting the bed for days.

"Rule the first," Trowa said calmly. "Never touch what is Heero's."

Once that was accepted as fact, everyone went back to eating.

"Maxwell never mentioned you two were an item," Draco murmured casually.

"Hn," Heero grunted, not even bothering to look at Draco. "It's a work in progress."

Ah.

"Think getting shagged regularly will tame Yuy's murderous urges?" Blaise whispered in Draco's ear, fearful of Yuy hearing.

"Are you kidding?" Draco muttered at the corner of his mouth. "Maxwell will more than likely be his cheerleading section as Yuy casually slaughters anyone who pisses him off."

Draco could practically hear Blaise make a mental note not to get on Yuy's bad side. Ever. As if _that_ wasn't a given.

"Ready for our study date, Trowa?" a sunny voice asked pleasantly. Amongst the normally unpleasant Slytherins, such a voice was like pouring acid in one's ears. They were quickly growing accustomed to it, though. Since when had the walls between Slytherin and Everyone Else crumbled so drastically?

It was all Barton and Yuy's fault.

No, scratch that. It was Maxwell. It always came down to Maxwell.

Trowa immediately crossed his cutlery on his plate and stood, gifting the blond angel of Hufflepuff House a soft smile. "Of course. Lead the way, Quatre."

Quatre beamed up at the taller boy brightly before looking at Draco. "Good evening, Draco. I trust Heero and Trowa aren't giving you any trouble?"

Blaise snorted. Draco calmly stomped on his foot under the table.

Draco just couldn't be cruel to that face. Not out of some stupid, moral sense of being nice or anything . (It sounded like a communicable disease, in his opinion. Nice. The word alone made him shudder.) Draco just had to sleep in the same room with Barton, and he didn't want to fall asleep one night, only to not wake up. It really put a crimp in one's life when one was smothered with one's own pillow as one slept.

"Of course not, Quatre," Draco said politely. "This past month has been nothing but a learning experience." Learning not to piss off Yuy, learning not to be mean to overly nice, polite Hufflepuffs to keep Barton happy...

Slytherins didn't like to bow to anyone's rule. They did, however, have a natural instinct to preserve their lives.

Besides, Draco had the sinking suspicion that Winner was just a ticking timed hex just waiting to go off. If Yuy was the homicidal one, and Maxwell the maniacal one, and Barton silent one, and... Draco didn't really know the fifth member of the group so well, but he'd seen Granger and the Chinese guy in many arguments, so he couldn't be as bad as the rest of them... then Winner was definitely the diabolical one, or of some variation of the word. The leader -which surprised him; he'd assumed that Yuy would steal that role in a moment's notice.

Quatre Winner smiled sunnily. "That's great! I'm glad Trowa and Heero are fitting in so well."

Yeah. Fitting in. _Whatever you say, Winner..._

----------

Another month passed. Eventually.

"You guys celebrate Christmas?" Duo asked, inspecting the short list of names of students staying for the Yule holiday. Harry barely gave the list a second glance before he signed his name in one of the slots -as always, he wouldn't be going to the Dursleys for the holidays.

"We actually celebrate Yule," Hermione explained, "but we keep with most of the traditions pertaining to Christmas, yes."

"Neat," Duo laughed, signing his name under Harry's. "Now I'll actually have an excuse to buy you guys presents, Fei!"

"What, like you wouldn't have done it anyway?" Wufei muttered as he immediately signed his name after Duo's. "And, as always, I'll have to reciprocate the gesture."

"Aw, Fei," Duo laughed softly. "I've told you before. You don't have to if you don't want to."

"It would be dishonorable not to recognize your traditions, Maxwell," Wufei said stiffly before heading off to his next class. Duo smiled absently as he left.

"He just doesn't get it," Duo explained. "It's not his tradition, though, so you can't really blame him. Can't really blame any of the guys, actually. The closest thing anyone of them came to celebrating Christmas with me was when Heero gave me a piece of cake."

"Cake?" Ron mumbled, overlooking the list of students staying for Yule.

"It was damn good cake," Duo said defensively. "Of course, after a week of food rations, cake was like a slice of heaven by that time."

"It's how the Japanese celebrate Christmas, Ron," Hermione explained. "They eat cake."

"Weird. Oh, bad luck, mate," Ron said with a wince. "Malfoy's staying for Yule, too. Wonder why the pampered ferret isn't going home to mummy and daddy?" Ron made a sour face. "Want me to stay and help beat up the manky git?"

"I think I can handle Malfoy alone, Ron," Harry said with a quick smile. "You spend the holiday with your family. Tell the twins to send me goodies."

"Goodies?" Duo mused, head turning to look at something in the distance. He cupped his mouth around his hands and shouted, "OI! Hee-chan! C-4!"

Heero looked up from his book and gave Duo a thumbs down. Then, he made a quick hand movement, followed by holding up five fingers.(2) Even by the distance between them, Harry could see Heero's smirk when Duo cursed. Loudly.

"Damn him," Duo groaned. "We need a new game. Something that doesn't involve the sinking of my dwindling armada."

----------

Wufei's right eye twitched as he stared down at his pile of goodies.

No. He definitely would _not_ hear the end of Maxwell's teasing if he ever admitted to the American pilot that he'd already done his Christmas shopping in preparation for the oncoming holidays. Unfortunately, wrapping presents had never been his forte.

"On'na," he said irritably, catching Brocklehurst's attention. Unlike that foul, loathsome woman Granger, Brocklehurst never complained when he called her on'na. "I require assistance."

Brocklehurst raised an eyebrow at him before glancing down at his stockpile of Christmas presents. She stared. "Is that a Glock?"

Wufei declined to answer. Sometimes answers were best left unsaid. "This Christmas thing is a waste of time," he muttered under his breath.

"I suppose you want help wrapping all this, then?" Brocklehurst commented, poking around the items, shiny wrapping paper, and ribbons curiously. "Yeah, I can help you. Oh, are you _kidding me_?" She looked up at Wufei incredulously. "A Glock, throwing knives, a book about wizarding politics, and _Monopoly_? No, wait -I have to ask. Which is for who?"

Wufei sighed. Women... "The Glock is for Heero, who collects guns. The knives are for Trowa, who's adoptive sister is in the circus, who is _also_ teaching him how to throw knives, and he left his old set home. Politics of the Wizarding Society is for Quatre, and... Monopoly is for Maxwell." Of course. "Does it matter, on'na? Just help me wrap."

"Yeah, whatever..." As she began preparing the arduous task of wrapping, she mentioned casually, "Wow, Chang -Monopoly. You know, these days, it's really hard to find a game like this? You must have been searching for weeks."

"Maxwell will never know that," Wufei intoned gravely. "I'll never hear the end of it."

If Christmas was sentient, Wufei thought he would like a chance to assassinate it rather violently.

Stupid Christmas.

_**End Chapter Twelve**_

* * *

**(1) Sexist comments rarely upset me, so in a lot of ways, I fashioned Mandy, who is a cannon member of the HP world that's relatively lacking in character, after my own personality. More often then not, I'm amused by such comments, and I dish as much as I take.**

**(2) Is it just me, or would Heero be just the kind of paranoid guy to learn sign language?**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Thirteen**_

* * *

Duo smiled in satisfaction, readjusting the red and gold striped scarf wrapped tightly around his neck as he moved back to survey his work. He quickly charmed the small black bits of coal he had used for the eyes and placed the finishing piece on the ball of white snow that made a head.

The American had plenty of time to kill since most of the student body had left for Yule holiday, leaving him all by his lonesome with the company of his four partners, Harry, some lower-year Hufflepuffs, and Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately, a lot of the time he actually found himself alone, save for Harry's company and, potentially, Draco's. Too bad Harry and Draco couldn't be in the same room without throwing mental Death Glares at each other within the first thirty seconds.

Personally, Duo thought it was sexual tension. One of his many plots was to lock the little Slytherin brat in a broom closet with the typically oblivious Gryffindor hero. Either they'd get over it and make out, or one of them would take the initiative and kill the other. Either way, no more glaring.

Friends give each other alibis. Real friends help each other hide the body. As it was, Duo liked both of them well enough, so the whole cliche closet bit was still in reserve as Option E.

Heero and the others were taking cram classes much like he had during the summer, hoping to catch up by the start of the New Year. The professors were having a lot of doubts about the other pilots' abilities to make their self-proclaimed deadline, but with those guys, Duo knew it was very possible that they could make it.

Behind him, there was a strange chuffing noise that, weirdly enough, reminded him of laughter, followed by a small chuckle. "Look, Snuffles -a SnowHarry."

Duo threw a quick grin over his shoulder, quickly inspecting the man that had come to inspect his work. He was about middle-aged, with tawny hair that was greying around the temples and gentle amber eyes. Beside him sat a huge black dog that looked a bit like a mutt; the dog would have looked vicious if it were not for the wagging tail and the tongue that lolled out of its mouth. That, and the man had named the thing 'Snuffles'. Duo thought it looked more like a 'Killer'.

"This is a shot in the dark," the new guy said drily, "but I'm guessing that second one is supposed to be our friendly neighborhood Potions Master."

"Sharp man." Duo laughed, swinging his braid over his shoulder. Both man and dog seemed to blink and take an involuntary step back. The braided boy had gotten that look a lot at the beginning of term; it was the "hold up, she's a guy?" expression that all wizards and witches alike had in common. The dog, though... Duo glanced at the Grim-like mongrel. Dogs weren't supposed to have that kind of reaction.

The other guy got over his shock quickly enough. "Do you mind if I...?"

"Survey away, man," Duo said, taking a step back. "Critiquing welcome. Hey, do you think I went underboard with the carrot? It was the biggest one I could find."

The man coughed into his fist, amber eyes immediately focused on SnowSnape's large carrot nose. and the dog did that strange... chuff. Definitely like a dog's version of laughter. Weird.

"Well... you could have used a potato," the man said lightly. "Though I applaud the rather realistic scowl on its face."

"I get that look a lot. The potato, though... too heavy," Duo replied offhandedly. "After about the seventh time it fell off, I broke down and went looking for the carrot."

"I see," the man replied with an amused chortle, turning his attention back to SnowHarry. SnowHarry was facing SnowSnape's turned back, its mouth zig-zagging across it's lower 'face' with a 'tongue' sticking out, blowing SnowSnape a silent raspberry. "Those look a lot like Harry's glasses," he noted absently.

"Oh, I just found those lying around," Duo said, waving his hand casually. "So are you here looking for Harry? He's probably stumbling around the Gryffindor dorms. I'll walk back with you."

"Thank you," the man said, falling into step beside Duo. The dog jogged to catch up, letting out a cheerful bark of appreciation. "Stumbling around? Interesting choice of words."

"Yeah, I hear he lost his glasses," Duo said cheerfully. "Poor guy's blind as a bat without them. Hope he finds them... eventually."

The man looked a bit off-guard, but the dog started... howling. It sounded amused. Duo looked at it again.

_If that's a dog_, Duo thought to himself with a smirk, _then I'm_ _Relena Peacecraft's long lost twin._

"Settle down, Snuffles," the man said, giving the dog a sharp look. _Too late, guy, his cover is officially blown._

"That's a terrible name for a dog that looks like it eats small children for breakfast," Duo decided to point out.

"He's a big pussycat, really," the man promised. "I don't believe I recognize you from my tenure as a professor here..."

"Oh, I'm new," the American replied. "You taught here? Let me guess -Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, right? From what Ron tells me, it's the only position that's ever open by the end of the school year. And he said the only decent professor who didn't have designs on being a pompous ass or being an evil henchman of the Dark Lord was Remus Lupin. I'm guessing you're that guy, huh?"

"Five points to Gryffindor," the newly named Remus Lupin replied with a soft smile. "And Harry's only mentioned one new Gryffindor student... You would be Duo Maxwell, yes?"

"I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie," Duo parroted gaily. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Maxwell."

"Duo. Only Sev actually calls me Mr. Maxwell anymore. He's a stubborn bastard when it comes to formalities." To give Snape some credit, the man _was_ dropping the 'mister' bit; apparently the man found it amazingly simplistic just to snarl out a biting 'Maxwell, you idiot' whenever Duo did something he didn't approve of... like accidently-on-purpose charming the man's robes purple. Oh, the "on purpose" part had been the charm; the "accidently" part was that he hadn't meant to hit the man's robes, but his hair.

But he wasn't about to explain that to Snape.

"Sev?" Lupin murmured, sounding bemused. "You mean Professor Snape?"

The dog growled threateningly in the back of his throat.

"You call Professor Snape 'Sev', and... you're not in a state of perpetual humiliation and degradation?"

"Well, the optimist in me says he likes me, but the realist pointed out that he just can't figure out a way to slip me a deadly poison without getting caught," Duo replied cheerfully. "He used to hand out really gross detentions, like cleaning out the bedpans in the Infirmary, but he rarely does that anymore." Not since the man had walked in and found that Duo had taken the initiative and, to relieve boredom, had donned a sanitized bedpan as a makeshift hat as he slid around in his little bedpan skis.

The dog chuffed. Again, it sounded like laughter.

"Does Snuffles have a cold?" Duo asked innocently.

"Erm, yes," Lupin replied hurriedly.

"Aww," Duo crooned, scratching the mutt behind the ear. The dog wagged his tail, his tongue lolling out of the side of his goofily grinning mouth. _My ass._ _Lupin needs to work on his deception skills. He's a terrible liar._

They were almost halfway to the Gryffindor Tower when a familiar voice shouted Duo's name. The American boy turned, a wide grin on his face as he shouted back jovially, "Oi! Quat! Wu! Tro! Hee-chan! You guys are out early!"

"That's Wu_fei_, Maxwell," the Chinese boy corrected him tersely.

Quatre, always one to keep the peace (and knowing a declining conversation when he saw one) exclaimed rather cheerfully, "Our Transfiguration assignment was easier than Professor McGonagall had anticipated, which leaves us to spend the rest of the day with you. Are you going to the Gryffindor Tower?"

"Yep," Duo replied. "Guys, this is Mr. Lupin and his dog Butch. His name is actually Snuffles, but I think he looks more like a Butch. Mr. Lupin, this is Quatre, Heero, Trowa, and Wuffie."

"Wu_fei_, Maxwell!"

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Lupin," Quatre said politely, offering the man his hand. The blond's curiosity appeared piqued after the handshake, but he shook it away quickly before turning back to Duo. "We're going back to our houses and putting away our stuff. Meet you at Gryffindor Tower?"

"You bet," Duo said cheerfully. "Hey, be on the lookout for Harry's glasses, will you? He's been looking for them all morning."

"The same glasses we saw you putting on your rather convincing snowman version of Harry out on the grounds?" Trowa said mildly.

"Probably," Duo shrugged innocently. "I mean, gosh -they certainly looked like Harry's specs, didn't they?"

"Perhaps he'll have them back later this evening," Heero said, monotone, the look on a his face only a minor glare that translated into "or else." Duo wasn't worried; he'd been on the receiving end of much, much worse.

"Maybe," the American responded with a whimsical shrug.

"An odd assortment of friends," Lupin mused as the five boys parted ways. "Two of those boys are Slytherins, aren't they?"

"That's right," Duo replied. "Wack-a-mole." This, of course, was not a reference to the actual arcade game, but the new Gryffindor password.(1)

"Harry," he sang out gaily as he breezed through the common room, removing his scarf, winter cloak, and worn gloves as he went about the toasty room, dropping his articles of clothing and letting them lie where they fell. "You have visitors!"

Snuffles bellowed out a rambunctious bark, tail wagging as the dog literally zoomed to the stairs. "Snuffles!" Harry yelled out joyously, nearly tripping and falling down the stairs in his excitement to hug the mutt. "Come to spend the evening with me?"

Snuffles yipped and slathered Harry's face with sloppy tongue-lashes. Harry made a happy yet disgusted sound, pushing the dog's muzzle away from his ear. "Ew, Snuffles..."

"Snuffles is very happy to see you again, Harry," Lupin said with a fond smile. Harry glanced up, squinting at Lupin, who must have been a vague blur without his glasses.

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed, standing quickly and sprinting the short distance to greet the man. Unfortunately his feet became entangled with Duo's cloak; luckily, the American was there to correct his fall.

"Watch your step, kid," Duo laughed. "You really need to find those specs before you do something completely unbefitting -like break your neck tripping over a lump in a rug."

"Oh, yes," Harry said sardonically, "mustn't make it easy on Voldemort or anything. Course, that megalomaniac might actually die from the shame of having been defeated by a klutz like me."

"What," Duo said with a chuckle, "getting his ass kicked by a baby wasn't enough? Look, here's the voice of reason talking -if I got knocked off by a toddler, I would just stay dead. Less humiliation that way."

"No one ever claimed Dark Lords had much sense."

"Of course they don't," Duo pointed out. "Because then they'd win."

Remus found himself hard-pressed to cover his smile. Couldn't quite argue with logic like that.

"Mind if my friends sleep over for Christmas Eve? It'll be our very first actual Christmas together -you know, with presents and the tree and everything. They're like the closest thing to a family I've had in years."

"Of course not," Harry replied. "Do you... want me to make myself scarce?"

"Yes, Harry. You can sleep in the drafty corridor while my friends and I roast by the fire drinking cocoa and exuding jolliness."

Harry blinked, stunned. It wasn't Duo's casual dismissal more than the image of Heero, Trowa, and Wufei smiling and being merry. The imagery alone was enough to put Harry's brain on a three second standstill.

Duo maintained his stoic attitude for less than five seconds before he laughed, throwing his arm over Harry's shoulder and giving his head an affectionate rub. "I'm kidding! Look, man, I know we've only known each other for a couple of months, but you're like family, too. And it be a really prick move to kick you out of your own house on Christmas Eve. I say, since we're all going to be stuck at -blargh- school for the holidays, we might as well cause some mischief while we're at it. You know... in that wholesome white bread family sort of way that you only see on television."

Duo paused. "Besides, I don't think Heero or Fei know how to be jolly. That scenario wouldn't have worked at all, and if it did, it be slightly terrifying and on the left side of weird. And I'm only cool with the right side of weird."

"There are sides to weird now?" Remus said, bemused.

Snuffles promptly made a small woof that could have translated into A) "I think that kid's on the left side of weird", B) "I heard the word mischief, and I like it", C) "Meh. Kids", or D) all of the above. Judging by the cheerful wag of the large black dog's tail and the long tongue lulling from the corner of his gaping maw, Remus tentatively went with B, or a good-natured A.

"Complicated system of deducing weirdness," Duo explained glibly. "I'd go further into detail, but it's been known to stump lesser men who tend to think horizontally or vertically, whereas I'm all about the angles. Heero smiling -left side of weird, unless it's in a maniacal sort of way, and that's all right. Clowns are on the right side of weird, but mimes are on the far, _far_ left side. There's no excuse for mimes."

"When did you move clowns from the left side to the right side?" Quatre asked pleasantly as Trowa helped him to his feet after crawling through the portrait hole. Heero was already moving toward one of the comfortable red couches when Wufei rounded off the group through the entrance.

"When I found out Trowa's part-time job is in a circus," Duo said cheerfully, "which, coincidentally, remains on the left side of weird. Not the circus itself, but Trowa being a clown. It only makes sense if I know daggers are going to be thrown at him, though."

Harry stared at Trowa. The taller boy shrugged nonchalantly. "A... clown. And yet, I can't see it."

Heero smirked. "Hn. He's good at blending in."

"G-10!"

Heero promptly lost his smirk as he glared at the American boy. "Hmph."

"Yes!" Duo yelped, jumping around in his exuberance. "Direct hit!"

"A-1."

"Damn it, Heero, you're cheating!"

"How can I cheat?" Heero demanded. "The coordinates are in your head. It's not my fault you have a faulty strategy."

"My strategy is not faulty!"

"Duo," Heero said, "A-1. D-2. G-8. B-10. 11, 42, 68, 210. Use the alpha numeric designation for the stars, and anyone who doesn't drool in his cheerios will realize that you're using L2's primary coordinates in space on every winter Friday at 19:00, which happens to be dinner time. Your favorite time on your favorite day during your favorite season.(2)"

Silence.

"I couldn't have figured it out," Trowa pointed out airily.

"I think anyone could have figured it out if we actually cared what Maxwell's favorite season, day, and time of day was," Wufei muttered.

"Do you think it's Heero's attention to detail that gave Duo away," Remus overheard the polite blond ask his taller friend quietly, "or do you think it's because of Heero's crush?"

"I think it's Heero's full blown obsession," Trowa said mildly in a tone that clearly stated, 'bully for him.' "When he starts dedicating poetry to Duo's hair is when I'm locking the two of them in a closet together." Remus couldn't help but note that the Slytherin boy had said 'when', as if this was already an inevitability.

"I can't believe you _know_ these things," Duo muttered grumpily, throwing himself down on the couch Heero was occupying. The braided boy took the opportunity to lay his head in the Japanese boy's lap. "It was a damn good strategy!"

"If you say so."

"It was!"

"Now you're just pouting."

"I'm not pouting!" Duo pouted, looking up at Heero with wide doe eyes.

Harry sighed and shook his head at the scene, glancing at his fugitive godfather and werewolf ex-professor as he sardonically quipped, "And welcome to a day in my life. Have you seen my glasses?"

----------

The Yule Feast was glorious.

The fun to be had was certain.

And Duo... was hyper.

So far he'd stolen everyone's crackers and had proceeded to set every single one of them off in Heero and Severus' direction, showering the two glowering Slytherins with sparkling sprinkles, confetti, and various small toys that entertained him a lot. Duo thought that Snape's glares, while not as vocal as Heero's, spoke sheer volumes. Heero's Glare seemed prominently fixed somewhere between "I'm only tolerating this because I know I can smother you with your pillow in the dead of the night" and "A paper cut really isn't the worst kind of pain."

"Draco," Duo said casually, "study Heero's expression. What does it say to you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at Heero, whose glower darkened slightly at the scrutiny. "I hear humans make good fertilizer and my cornish glowsprout in Herbology is starting to wilt?"

Duo snickered. "Close. Right now it actually says 'I know how to use thumbscrews.'"

"Hn." Heero gave Duo a look.

"That one says 'Give me the time, the day, and the place, and I'll bring the lube,'" Draco said casually, going back to his meal. Duo choked on his butterbeer, speechless. Snuffles chuffed in amusement, and even Snape was hard-pressed not to look less-than-amused.

Heero thought he might have to assassinate Draco in the messiest way possible -but efficiently. The Japanese boy didn't do anything by halves.

With his superior thieving skills, Duo had managed to hide a small box of Bertie Bott's Ever Flavored Beans inside Dumbledore's beard, a box of chocolate covered cherries under McGonagall's hat, gummi bears on Flitwick's chair, and various other small items of sweet candy goodness where ever he felt like hiding them for some random person to find. He'd exhausted Draco's tolerance for friendly banter, and ever time he said the word, "Baka!" Quatre would flinch. (He'd been terribly amused that "baka" had a completely different meaning in Arabic -apparently something to do with camels. It made him laugh quietly on the inside...)

And that was just fifteen minutes into the meal. Thirty minutes into the meal, he'd taken to humming and belting out funny little commercial tunes.

"O-S-C-A-R M-A-Y-E-R... Oh, I wish I were an Os-car Mayer wie-ner! That is what I'd tru-ly like to be-"

Draco promptly dropped his fork in surprise. He stared at Duo, the expression on his face this close to comical. The Malfoy heir looked like somebody had struck him in the face with a large, uncooked fish. Repeatedly.

"You are bloody mad," Draco muttered once he recovered.

"It's never been disputed," Duo replied gamely. "Pass those cookies, will you?"

Malfoy fled from the table, leaving Duo (and a great many other people) to stare at the boy as he ran for the proverbial hills.

"Strange fellow," Duo commented, giving Harry a thankful look as he passed the plate of cookies. "Thanks."

"Maxwell, you've been eating sweets all day," Wufei pointed out stiffly. "Surely you can limit yourself to one cookie."

"Hey, a balanced diet is a cookie in each hand, Wuffers," Duo replied glibly, adding through a mouthful of peanut butter cookie, "And don't call me Shirley. Ow! Tro!" The American boy looked at Quatre plaintively. "Tell your boyfriend to stop picking on me!"

Quatre blushed hotly, but when he spoke, his voice was even. "For that last joke, Duo, I think you almost deserved it."

"Quat!" Duo looked flummoxed that his has-a-nice-word-to-say-to-everyone-and-self-proclaimed-savior-of-puppies-and-Christmas friend would tell anyone that they deserved a swat to the head for _anything_ short of baby sacrifices.

Trowa burst out laughing(3), much to the amazement of the teachers and Harry.

----------

Yule wasn't actually Draco's favorite time of year; nor was it his birthday or Valentine's Day. While people his age got excited over presents and holiday cheer and chocolates from secret admirers, the Malfoy heir had found that he'd grown numb to that entire situation years ago. Yule lost it's shine when he knew he was going to get everything he wanted; the same went for his birthday. On Valentine's Day, he tended to get a flood of cards professing hearts and kisses and marriage contracts, and enough chocolate to feed a third world country for months. But of course, what took a third world country to consume in months, took Vincent and Gregory a week to devour.

"If there's ever a freak famine," Pansy had muttered with a smirk, "we're eating those two first." Draco wouldn't have doubted such a statement would be true, even if Pansy were teasing; it was a sound, logical conclusion. Not only would their bulk feed the Slytherins for a few weeks (if rationed out carefully), but what food they would manage to scrounge up would be preserved a lot longer.

Draco liked St. Patrick's Day. Mostly because no one could actually pinch a Slytherin, since a Slytherin's uniform was all about the green. Most Slytherins, in fact, adored St. Patrick's Day for the simple fact that it gave them an excuse to pinch random Gryffindors mercilessly, since they were too proud to ever sport the rival house's colors. And Dumbledore never said anything about it; the old codger actually encouraged it, even! And, well, besides Halloween, Draco didn't really like any other holidays. St. Patrick's Day was just about the only one from which he derived any actual pleasure.

He expected this Yule to be like any other Yule, only at Hogwarts and not at the manor. He would seclude himself in his room, curl up with a book, and read until he fell asleep. He would then proceed to sleep in, pick through his presents to find the ones that really mattered, and spend the rest of the day in various states of flying, eating, or sleeping. Yule was just another day that lost it's magic in muggle traditions long ago, and he wasn't about to try and fake it any other way.

"Hey, dragon boy."

Draco almost cursed out loud. Luckily, he managed to withhold that urge. "Maxwell. What are you doing here?"

"Oh," said the braided American glibly, peering around the room in the same manner as a curious puppy sniffing around for something to play with, "I've always wanted to check out the Slytherin digs. I must say, defying the laws of physics sounded very appealing when Hee-chan told me about the whole set up of the place." He waved his hand around. "Has ambience."

"We try," Draco replied, lying his book across his knee. He noticed that Heero and Trowa were silently tilling around their beds, gathering articles of clothing, toiletries, and other things. "Sleepover or mass orgy?"

Duo smirked. "Would they be bringing clothes if it were a mass orgy?"

Couldn't argue with logic. At least he'd get the dorm to himself. (Not, he realized in retrospect, that it would matter because Yuy and Barton were hardly what one would call "chatty" in the first place, and anyone who would claim otherwise needed so much psychiatric help that he wasn't even sure a Malfoy could foot the bill.)

"Have fun, then," Draco said lazily. He'd planned to turn back to his book, but a twinkle in Duo's eyes gave him pause.

"What are you doing tonight, dragon boy?" Duo asked innocently. Such a facade was almost laughable.

"Reading," Draco said flatly. "Sleeping. Don't call me dragon boy."

"So we're having a massive sleep-over in Gryffindor," Duo said brightly, that annoying selective hearing problem of his kicking in. "You're welcome to join. We convinced contacts to smuggle in alcohol and everything."

"Me, spend the night... in Gryffindor?" Draco said slowly, testing the very idea in his mind. That would be... almost disastrous. He wasn't sure he would be able to survive the chaos of the moment the Slytherin Prince set foot in lion territory. It would be apocalyptic, mayhem, disorder in the universe as he knew it. Up would be down and down would be sideways, the sky would be green and the grass purple, Crabbe would make a passing score on a Charms exam, and Draco would suddenly start thinking backwards.

It would be insanity.

Which was a damn sight better then what he did have planned.

"I'm in."

At least Potter would be infuriated.

**_END CHAPTER THIRTEEN_**

* * *

(1) I don't know why, in fanfiction, Harry and his Gryffindor buddies are always so indignant about the Slytherin passwords always being something derogatory against Gryffindors and muggleborns in general. Being indignant about the muggleborns bit is understandable, but in the first book, the Gryff. password was"caput draconis" which means "kill the snake." Can we say hypocrites? I knew we could.

(2) This is all, of course, banking on my theory that the colonies rotate in Earth's gravitational field much like the moon does.

(3) YES! It IS possible for Oh Stoic One to laugh! Remember in that episode after Heero self-destructed on J's order, and Trowa nursed him back to health? Heero said something like, "Let me give you some advice. Dying hurts like hell." Trowa laughed SO HARD.

On that note, Heero can laugh, too. He just does it psychotically, while he's in battle. (Beginning of Gundam Wing comes to mind... Heero battling Zechs and his troops as he plummets to Earth after breaking through the atmosphere...)

So, yeah. Trowa is SO still in-character in this scene...

**"A paper cut really isn't the worst kind of pain." -Angl**

**"I hear humans make good fertilizer and my cornish glowsprout in Herbology is starting to wilt." -Lady Aku**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Fourteen**_

As Harry had been spending Christmas Eve with his surrogate family in the privacy of the Room of Requirement, where his godfather and the congenial werewolf would be staying for the night, he was not present to avert the disaster that was Malfoy in the Gryffindor Tower. In fact, he had no idea that at the very moment he was telling Sirius about the latest Quidditch match against Hufflepuff in full detail that Malfoy had actually been left alone long enough to plunder through Harry's trunk ("Potter needs to clean this thing out... Hello, what is this?..."), wardrobe ("Gross! Ugh, is this how muggles _dress_? No wonder everyone wants to wipe them off the face of the earth..."), and other personal belongings ("Scrap sheet of parchment, Frog card, Frog card... Agrippa? Ooh, haven't got her yet...").

It's an interesting, yet unknown fact that there hasn't been a Malfoy in Gryffindor Tower since William Honua Malfoy, who was so upset about his Sorting that he actually went about carving "W. Malfoy wasn't here" over random surfaces, dates going as far back as 09-01-1852 and ending somewhere around 05-28-1860. The Gryffindors of the time had been so ashamed of the presence of a Malfoy that they wiped away any and all traces that William Malfoy had ever been there after the Malfoy had graduated, and William never spoke of his time at Hogwarts. However, if anyone bothered to look hard enough, one could clearly make out the faint scarring of "V. Nallou was 'l neie 02-08-1855" near the fireplace... or something to that effect. The source of the scarring remained a complete mystery to present day Gryffindors all around, as anyone name Nallou had never been found on the registry for that time.

Though the researcher had found a Malfoy. He refused to mention the shame to his fellow Gryffindors, and carried the secret to his death on the eighth of February in the year A.C. 002. Coincidentally, it was the same date as the carving near the fireplace and, should anyone bother to do the math, A.C. 002 would be the Year of Our Lord 2055 -exactly two entire centuries after the marks had been carved.

It was already late by the time Harry had entered the Tower, feeling elation, giddiness, and bubbly good cheer all rolled into one hyperactive punch. He was confused when he saw six people gathered around the fireplace instead of the five he was expecting. He was downright horrified to see that the extra person happened to be one Draco Malfoy; the same Draco Malfoy that was looking over at him with a smirk on his pointy, handsome face and a butterbeer bottle hanging casually from his long, slim fingers.

Duo, of course, was pretending ignorance to the entire thing. "Hey, Harry! We were just about to start a game of I Never. Grab and butterbeer and pop a squat."

Almost immediately Duo turned back to Draco. "It's a really good drinking game. See, I say something I've never done, and if anyone else has done it, they have to drink. It's better if we could actually play with hard liquor, but I couldn't convince my contact to sneak in anything stronger than butterbeer. Besides, I don't think Heero, Trowa, Quat, and Wu would have gone for the hard stuff anyway. It'll be fun either way, though."

Harry didn't move. "How about I start? I never... invited Draco Malfoy into the Gryffindor Tower." He wasn't surprised when Duo tipped back the bottle of butterbeer enthusiastically. It figured.

Harry wanted to rant and scream, the prevailing question on his mind being, "What the hell were you _thinking_, you daft git?" However, upon seeing the devious joy on Malfoy's face, the Boy Who Lived refused to lose his cool in front of the Slytherin Prince. Instead, he grabbed a butterbeer and threw himself into the chair closest to the hearth, refusing to even so much as glance in Malfoy's general direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see, very clearly, the blond Slytherin snicker silently.

"Yeah, Draco wasn't doing anything all by his lonesome in Slytherin Tower, so I just thought I'd invite him to actually, you know, have some fun tonight. Didn't think you'd mind," Duo said casually, his tone implying that he did think Harry would mind quite a lot, but not enough to short sheet Duo's bedding.

Harry let him think that, and simply said, "Hm." He instead chose to look at Malfoy. "You haven't stolen anything yet, have you?"

"Why, Potter, do you really have so low an opinion of me?" Malfoy said mockingly, his left palm stretched flat above his black heart. Harry noticed that Malfoy really didn't deny or admit to anything. He silently vowed to take inventory of all his possessions before Malfoy left the Tower with whatever item(s) he'd purloined.

"Ooh, me next," Duo cheered. "Um, I never..."

There was a long moment of silence as everyone stared expectantly at the American who was lost in thought.

"I never, um..."

Clearly, Duo was having a lot of trouble thinking of things he hadn't done. "I never stripped somebody else's, er, mode of transportation for -no, done that... I never stole from a -no, done that, too... Oh! I never set my own broken leg."

"That's profiling," Heero said, but he drank anyway. Harry was somehow not surprised that Heero would be intense enough to actually set his own broken leg.

Duo grinned. "Your turn, Hee-chan!"

The Japanese boy raised an eyebrow. "I never talked to my... mode of transportation."

"Now you're just being unfair," Duo grumbled as he, Wufei, and Quatre took a swig of butterbeer (in Quatre's case, a polite sip -rich people didn't take 'swigs'). Harry was only a second behind them after a moment of silent debate on whether brooms counted. "You're up, Quatre."

"I've never played I Never," Quatre admitted with a small grin. Duo and, surprisingly enough, Trowa ended up drinking to that after a small debate on whether that was actually a legitimate question, which brought about something about a rule book that, apparently, only Duo had heard of.

"I never held a grudge against anyone for blowing up and-or destroying my mode of transportation," Trowa said calmly.

"You're all just targeting me today," Duo mused; he was the only one to drink besides Harry, who thought back to the point in time his treasured Nimbus 2000 was destroyed by the Whomping Willow. "You're up, Dragon boy."

"Stop calling me Dragon boy," came twin responses. Draco and Wufei glanced at each other wearily.

"Latin," Draco pointed out.

"Chinese," Wufei admitted grudgingly.

And over the silly nickname, it seemed a bond was formed.

"I'm talking about his highness Malfoy over there," Duo said after a short break for his laughter.

"I'd feel better about being called his highness if I didn't know you were being sarcastic," Malfoy drawled, putting a finger to his lips and tapping daintily in thought. "I never really underestimated Maxwell."

Duo pouted when, one by one, everyone but he and Draco tilted the bottle back. "You guys are so mean."

"You wear that fool's mask like it's made of your own skin, Maxwell," Wufei pointed out stoically. Then, with a smirk on his lips, he said silkily, "I never had a crush on Yuy."

Duo's face was flaming red as he guiltily brought the bottle to his lips, avoiding eye contact with Heero. To his amazement, he wasn't the only one who was drinking to that announcement. "Trowa?... Draco! _Quatre_!"

"He's very intense," Trowa said simply. "Whatever attraction garnered eventually became more like respect."

"I'm a sixteen year old wizard, for the sake of the spirits," Draco grumbled. "_Linoleum_ turns me on."

Which wasn't something Harry really wanted to know about Malfoy's private life... _kinda_.

"Um," Quatre said sheepishly, "I have a thing for the quiet type? Only, uh, it's more of a sort of thing for the _passive_ quiet types now..."

Harry really couldn't see the appeal. Besides the fact Heero was handsome and, well, intense, there really wasn't anything that the Slytherin did for him. His taste led more to the sardonic, witty, arctic type...

What Harry didn't realize that his type was exactly Draco Malfoy. He just refused to admit it to himself on the most basic level. And Draco... well, linoleum. Enough said. Green eyes a plus. He had a thing for green.

Heero, on the other hand, suspected that Trowa, at one time, might have had feelings for him. Quatre was a shocker, and Draco's admittance was bordering scandalous, but when he saw Duo put the bottle to his lips and take a healthy swig, none of that seemed to really matter much. If Heero had been anything like Duo, he would have mentally cried _Score!_ to express his jubilance; but Heero is Heero, so he contented himself with feeling somewhat satisfied that the chances of his mission's (tentatively called Operation Get the Boy) success increased by fifty-three point four percent.

Harry, feeling slightly devious at this sudden development, said, "I never had a crush on Duo."

Wufei cursed in three different languages and almost refused to drink until he realized that, damn it all, he was bound by honor to be truthful. Draco, of course, was shameless in admitting that, yeah, at one point in time, if there was a gag available, he'd probably pursue a relationship with the Gryffindor American, too. And Heero... well, Heero made sure Duo was looking directly at him when he confidently tilted the bottle back.

Harry recognized the rare moments when Duo was struck speechless, and this was one of them.

"I... Um..." Duo fumbled, blinking owlishly at Heero. Heero smirked at him. The braided boy shook his head slowly and, instead, voted to look at Wufei with a raised eyebrow. "Wu? Is there something you haven't been telling me?"

"It was once, it lasted about a week, I liked your eyes, drop it before I string up your guts for garland," the Chinese youth grounded out.

Duo grinned. "Heh... Well, touche. I never had a crush on Harry!"

Draco wasn't going to drink to that. He really wasn't. He didn't feel bound by some stupid honor code or sense of nobility, and he was a Slytherin, for the sake of the spirits, he lied when it pleased him for reasons large and small. So imagine his surprise when he found his hand mindlessly lifting the bottle to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the neck, and tilting back against his own will.

Harry's entire brain lost functional capabilities for the next three seconds. And then -_What the **bloody hell**!_

"You jinxed it!" Draco accused, the bottle of butterbeer sloshing as he pointed at Duo. "I wasn't going to answer that!"

"But that would have been lying," Duo pointed out impishly.

"What's that stupid Americanism you're always spouting o- _duh_! No shit, no kidding, no joke, no _duh_, Maxwell!" Draco ranted. "No more crush questions! No more! In one sitting you've had me admit to thinking unfit thoughts about you, about YUY, and, of all people, POTTER! That's more than I've admitted to in my entire life! Guess what, Maxwell, you've done the impossible!"

"The improbable," Duo corrected primly. "Because, apparently, it's possible."

"Hm," Trowa hummed. "I never got all bent out of shape because someone found out I had a crush on him."

"Then tell your little blond boyfriend that you have a crush on him and get it over with," Malfoy said haughtily, downing the rest of his butterbeer in almost two gulps. "All the tiptoeing and the naivete and the unintentional sexual innuendos that goes on between the two of you makes me want to lock you in a closet together for an obscenely long period of time. Get a libido. Want mine? Hell, apparently it's a very healthy one."

"There are unintentional sexual innuendos?" Quatre whispered timidly, cheeks pink.

"Of course there are," Draco said. "When Barton says 'let's go study', what he _really_ means is 'let's go-'"

"That's enough," Trowa said softly, the threat in his voice implied but belayed by his placid face.

"-'play charades', I was going to say. Because Barton's not one for conversation. What did you think I was going to say?"

"Good save," Duo said, honestly impressed.

Draco shrugged gracefully. "I like waking up in the morning. It's like saying 'oh, look -I'm not dead' and actually feeling relieved about it."

Harry snorted wryly. Even Quatre looked entertained, and at least Trowa seemed somewhat mollified by the object of his affection's amusement. Only Draco could stir up that much crap and end up defusing the entire situation in the same breath.

"Well," Duo said brightly, "that was fun."

"You would classify a moment of utter chaos as 'fun'," Wufei pointed out sardonically. Duo pretended not to hear.

"But, alas, it's getting late. Time for all good boys and girls to lay down their heads for good ol' Saint Nick to come with gifts and... well, no, all anyone really cares about are the presents."

"All good boys and girls, huh. So what are you going to do in the meantime?" Heero asked blandly.

"Ooh," Duo bemoaned. "Cut to the quick there, didn't you?... Hee-chan." The affectionate nickname, so used to the infliction of teasing, suddenly seemed to carry a gentler, more caring meaning as the American looked at the Japanese Slytherin with a soft, glowing smile on his face.

It was decided early on that everyone would be sleeping in the common room, and the sleeping bags were quickly spread out along the floor around the fireplace. Draco, of course, "politely" refused a sleeping bag by informing him that he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't sleep on the floor. In fact, Malfoys barely tolerated sleeping on the couch, but he'd take what he could get in this situation -he didn't think he was going to get a better offer than the couch. A simple banishing charm ridded the common room of the evidence of alcohol, and, one by one, the seven boys settled in for a long night's rest.

----------

Duo woke to the oddest sensation of something sprinkling some weird dust over him.

When he opened his eyes, he was left with his bemusement as he spied a sprig of mistletoe hovering overhead, sprinkling silvery dust all over his face and hair.

"What the hell..." he mumbled, not quite believing what he was seeing.

A voice near his ear rumbled, "Is that mistletoe?"

_Gah..._ Duo felt his face flush hotly, unwilling to even dare glance at the object of his affection, who he had somehow managed to cling on to sometime during the night. "Um... y-yeah."

The mistletoe emitted a sound.

"Is it... laughing at us?" Well, at least Duo wasn't going crazy; he thought the odd, tinkling laughter was in his imagination. On the other hand, he'd never heard Heero Yuy sound so perplexed since he'd known the guy.

"Sounds like it..."

"Why isn't it going away?"

Duo stared at the mistletoe. The mistletoe -obviously charmed... _giggled_. "Um. Christmas tradition states that we have to, erm... kiss. Under the mistletoe."

"Westerners have strange traditions."

"In defense of my people -you're absolutely right. Ever hear of the nationally celebrated Talk Like A Pirate Day?"

"No."

"It's one of our lesser known holidays."

Neither made a movement. The entire room was silent, save the soft breathing of their fellow pilots and the slightly heavier breathing of Harry and Draco. The mistletoe continued to gaily secrete silvery sparkles all over the two Gundam pilots.

"So, um..." Duo probed hesitantly, finally gathering enough courage to meet the calm Prussian blue eyes that were regarding him almost... tenderly? Which, of course, did nothing to tame his wild libido. "If we want it to go away..."

He didn't get to finished. He didn't have to. Suddenly hot, soft lips were pressing oh-so-softly against his own for a single, chaste moment. Duo's stomach trembled and his heart beat wildly in his chest at the intimate contact, barely able to believe that this was _Heero_, _Heero Yuy_ who was kissing him with an amount of tenderness that Duo had no idea the Japanese pilot was capable of. It was forever and only a moment, tightly bound in the same explosive package, and Duo... _melted_.

The moment was broken when the mistletoe emitted a loud coo of delight, startling the others back into the land of the waking and effectively ending the kiss. The mistletoe danced around gaily before detonating, exploding into a shower of silver sparkles and small, familiar foil wrapped candies that almost covered the common room floor alone.

"Did I just see a sprig of mistletoe explode?" Wufei asked gruffly, picking up a Hershey's Kiss from his lap and examining it.

"Oh," Draco said wearily. "I thought I'd dreamt that part."

It was Harry who found the small sheet of thin parchment that had fluttered to the ground. "'Christmas Kisses to all! From Forge and Gred Weasley of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, introducing our hottest item on the market this holiday season -Mischievous Mistletoes.'" Harry grinned, shaking his head.

"Nice to see they're actually putting their dropout, dead weight brains together and making something of themselves," Draco grumbled. "Clearly they're the only ones with any business sense in that lot."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said lightly, folding the note and putting it to the side.

Duo sat up, face flushed and eyes twinkling merrily. "Merry Christmas! Oooh... Look at the goodies..." This, of course, was not only directed toward the candies that littered the ground, but the large piles of presents set beside each of them.

"Merry Christmas, Duo," Quatre said sleepily, having yet to unravel himself of his sleeping bag cocoon.

"No sugar for Maxwell in the mornings," Wufei warned. "It's about as bad as giving him coffee."

"Don't be cruel," Duo chided, popping a Kiss into his mouth and grinning feverishly, still recovering from Heero's chaste kiss. _Heero, kissing... Helllooooo, libido!_

Draco had already separate his large sprawling pile of presents into two, the one closest to him being the smallest. As per his Christmas morning ritual, he'd broken open Gregory's gift, revealing a large boxful of miscellaneous favorite treats from Honeyduke's, as was Gregory's normal routine. "Denying chocolate in the morning is a mortal sin, Chang." Mmm. Chocolate covered raisins...

Once everyone was settled into full upright positions and aware enough to really take note of their surroundings, Duo clapped his hands eagerly and eyed the mountains of gifts with glee.

"In all fairness, since he's our favorite little pacifist," Duo said teasingly, grinning at Quatre, "I think Q-bean should open one of his presents first."

"I couldn't possibly -Duo, this is your holiday, maybe you should-"

"Gag it and open one, Quat," Duo said eagerly. "C'mon, c'mon! Pick one and tear it open already!"

Quatre carefully checked over his pile of gifts and shyly took a plainly wrapped present that he knew came from Trowa. It only took a moment to carefully tear away the wrapping and pry the lid from heavy box. The blond Winner heir gasped almost soundlessly as he softly ran his fingers down the wooden case. "My violin case..."

"And your violin," Trowa added simply. "I had Iria send it and the flute."

Quatre smiled brightly at his taller friend (boyfriend? Who knew) and slowly opened the case, gazing at his treasured violin lovingly. "Thank you, Trowa. I... thought I was going to have to buy a new one. I never even thought to ask Iria to send mine. This means so much to me..."

Draco was very careful not to gag noisily at the scene. Ugh. Hufflepuff sap was liberally dripping _everywhere_. He supposed that, if he had to look at the bright side, at least it was in the Gryffindor Tower and not Slytherin -the Slytherins would be trying to get the sap out of the atmosphere for months.

"That one is from me," Quatre said softly, pointing out a slim package wrapped in gold and silver. Trowa slid the package out from under another and calmly tore the front of the present, concealing whatever it was that Quatre had decided to give him.

"A music book," Trowa murmured, "for violin and flute duets."

"I thought that we could maybe play another duet sometimes," Quatre admitted. "It's been so long since..."

"I'd enjoy that," Trowa replied.

_Get a room_, Draco thought amiably, biting the head off a vigorously wriggling chocolate frog. He was slightly irritated that he felt compelled to bite his tongue on every scathing thought that entered his head, but Slytherins (and Malfoys in general) had keen survival instincts. There was no way he was airing his thoughts to this group of homey psychos without a lot of reliable witnesses and bodyguards. Even then, he wasn't sure that would help.

Duo felt no need to preserve much of anything. "Get a room. Wufei, you're up! Open mine, open mine!" the American chanted giddily, shoving a gaily wrapped present at the weary Chinese youth. The other looked hesitant to open his present, as if fearing what Duo could have possibly picked out for him. Finally, with a certain amount of resolve and resignation, Wufei carefully opened the package and pulled the lid from the box.

Wufei's almond-shaped eyes widened marginally after pulling the thin white paper away, revealing a carefully folded white leather material. He pulled the white leather from the box, and held the product up, very clearly surprised by the creamy white leather duster in his hands. "This is... spectacular, Maxwell. It must have cost a small fortune."

"Eh," Duo shrugged bashfully. "Suddenly I found myself with this butt load of money. What better ways to spend it all than buying gifts for your friends, right, Wuffers?"

"Un," Wufei murmured, slipping the duster around his slim shoulders. A perfect fit. "Don't call me Wuffers. I do believe it's your turn, Maxwell."

Duo squealed again and dove for his rapidly dwindling pile, pulling out a rather heavy present with red wrapping and gold ribbons, simply marked "From Heero." Duo favored his friend (boyfriend? Who knew -this group was so damn secretive, Draco noted irritably) with a small smile and eagerly tore away the wrapping.

"Heero," Duo breathed, delicately lifting the gift from its velvet trappings. It was an intricate sort of crystal chime hanging from soft, silky threads from the metal ring. The crystals were lavender in color, glinting brightly and beautifully in the light of the common room, tiny beams of light falling on every surface. Between the cylinder crystals hung labyrinthine black stone roses, so carefully carved that they almost appeared so very real. "It's... it's beautiful. Thank you."

"Hn." Heero stared at the soft look in Duo's violet eyes and decided, then and there, that he liked that look. "It reminds me of you."

Duo smiled softly, tilting his head as the crystals clinked together, creating a soft, melodious sound that gave the indication that the chimes certainly were magical in nature. "It's perfect."

Draco tamed the wide smirk that wanted to paste itself on his face. Oh, yeah -Heero was in there. With the lube. To keep himself from smirking, he continued tossing his chocolate-covered raisins into his mouth, feigning disinterest at the lovey-dovey scene before him.

The trend continued from there. Wufei received a book about the magical history of the Chang clan from Heero, which he accepted with gratitude. From Duo, Harry received a pair of expensive dragon hide Seeker gloves, the other Gryffindor having noticed weeks ago that Harry's old pair were in dire need of repair or burial. Heero studied the heavy Glock from Wufei with an appreciative eye, and Duo practically squealed over his new muggle board game that he called Monopoly, which actually sounded quite fun once Duo explained the purpose of the stupid muggle game to Draco, appealing to his inner business mogul. A set of throwing knives, a nice pair of dragon hide boots, a political book, and various other gifts (including, oddly enough, a small square of linoleum that had Duo laughing gaily as Draco shot the smirking Boy Who Lived a vicious glare, unable to help the small tick of amusement at the corner of his mouth from rearing its ugly head) later, it came to Duo again. If the braided boy hadn't been thrumming with concealed glee at the beginning of this Christmas tradition, he was by this point.

"My turn!" Duo grinned like a kid in a candy store, eagerly ripping into the present that was very clearly from Quatre by the tag's mark. Shredded wrapping paper went flying by the handful, finally revealing...

"A state of the art digital disc player," Duo whispered, truly awed as he checked over his gift. "Flat screen panel... I hear the clarity of these things are supposed to be amazing, but it won't actually be released until six months from now. How in the world did you manage it, Quat?"

"What is it?" Draco muttered, peering at the invention with a slight curl of distrust to his upper lip. It looked incredibly muggle...

"It's like a painting," Trowa explained, tossing one of his new throwing knives hilt over blade and catching them deftly in his palm. Very good balance, amazing quality... "Only the scenery can change along with the figures, depending on what disc you place in it. It's meant for entertainment."

Quatre smiled. "The company developing it is a sub-branch of Winner Enterprises. That's the current working prototype, and the developers were looking for someone who was technologically savvy to give them feedback. I hope the digital discs I got are to your liking... It really doesn't seem like something you'd enjoy, but when I described you to my sister Tanua, she assured me they would be in your taste. She's generally a good judge of character..."

Duo glanced at the box set that had been hidden under the DDP and stared. There, on the cover of the box, was an odd assortment of smiling, happy-looking fury animals surrounding a giant tree. The title proclaimed it _Happy Tree Friends: The Complete First-Third Seasons_.(1) And Duo began to laugh. Quite maniacally, in fact.

Draco took the time to care to look at whatever muggle device Duo was cackling over. "I don't get it. What's so funny about a bunch of insipid, cute furry animals and a tree?"

To which Duo proceeded to show him what was so funny about a bunch of insipid, cute furry animals and a tree.

"I want one," Draco murmured breathlessly, the violent, gory deaths of furry animals appealing to his inner Bastard!Slytherin immensely. "Make it so."

"You want something muggle?" Harry said grumpily, not quite seeing the appeal. "That's really gross and disturbing."

"It's great!" Duo said giddily.

"It's you," Quatre pointed out faintly, a green tinge to his face as he watched a cute furry green bear in army fatigues go ballistic and slaughter dozens of hapless animals due to what appeared to be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. "I'm... slightly worried that one my sisters knows this show exists."

"One of 'em is bound to have taste," Duo pointed out happily, lovingly placing his new toy to the side. Draco smirked when he saw the blond Hufflepuff mouth the word 'taste' doubtfully, as if he'd accidentally bit into a vomit flavored bean.

"Thanks, guys," Duo murmured finally. "This was the best Christmas ever."

"Considering it's the only Christmas..." Wufei muttered lowly. The rest was a confusing jumble of mumbles and grunts that Draco was almost sure it wasn't English. A casual glance at Potter assured him that the Golden Boy of Gryffindor hadn't caught Wufei's bitter words either.

His friends had. All five new students fell into silence. Quatre was looking into the healthy fire contemplatively as Trowa merely focused his gaze on Quatre. Heero was this shy of an actual scowl, and Duo busied himself with playing with one of his many new presents without saying much of anything.

Draco flinched under the sudden intensity of the silent atmosphere before he threw back another handful of chocolate raisins as he curiously poked at the muggle thing Maxwell called a DDP. "You people certainly don't celebrate by halves. My, this has been the most excitable Christmas since that time Mother caught my cousin snogging his sister under the dining hall table."

Duo blinked. "What, and that isn't perfectly acceptable behavior in your circles?" Before Draco could shoot off a scathing comment about there being something of a difference between keeping it in the family and incest, the braided American boy pointed out, "I noticed you hardly opened any of your presents since you found your treats from your friends."

"Malfoy," Draco said, pointing to himself. "Christmas. Silly muggle holiday that lost it's novelty to the wealthy since it's introduction into the wizarding world." He waved his hand carelessly at the extensive pile. "It's from my Mother. I already know she's got me everything I wanted."

"Yeah?" Duo smirked, throwing Draco a modestly sized, gold and silver wrapped box. "Here's something I know she didn't give you."

Draco blinked, putting his treats aside. He tore open the wrappings, finding something that, like the DDP, looked very muggle and curious. "What is it?"

Duo grinned. "Handheld Tetris."

Harry blinked. "Like the video game? Duo... that game is almost as old as this castle."

"And when Draco gets the hang of that," Duo said pleasantly, "I shall proceed to get him addicted to Luminous."

"That's assuming I'll like this," Draco said with a curl to his lip, holding out the muggle device as if it were unclean.

"Oh, that's addiction you're holding in your hand," Duo said evilly, well on his way to corrupting the pureblood wizard. "Odd, colorful shapes fall from the top. Your goal is to make a straight line disappear, giving you points. The entire purpose of the game is to get a Tetris -four straight lines in a little row. You can flip and move the shapes accordingly by the use of those nifty little buttons."

Draco sneered. "Sounds dull." Once Duo informed him how to turn on this muggle gadget, Draco immediately began proving how dull it was for the next two and a half hours. While Draco was fiddling with the device, the others finished opening their various gifts. They were all well on their way into a rousing game of Monopoly when the Malfoy heir let out a displeased grunt.

"You didn't say it goes faster the further you go along," he said accusingly, not even looking at Duo as another game began.

"Oops." Duo and Harry exchanged amused smirks.

Draco Malfoy was successfully enthralled in the addiction that was Tetris.

----------

In the Granger home, it was traditional that after all presents were opened and carefully placed in cautiously marked piles (for instance, "return for refund and find correct size", "return for refund and find something better", and "we'll keep it, but we'll probably never wear it") and all excess paper and bows were either thrown away in a handy trash bag or saved for reuse (the bows, for instance, could be reused for next Christmas, and if they were careful enough in the unwrapping process, the paper could then be reused as well), the close knit familial unit would curl up on the wide couch with hot cocoa -Mrs. Granger to the far left, Hermione Granger in the middle, and Mr. Granger to the far right- and watch the news.

Some would view this as boring; most children would prefer to go off and explore the depths of their gifts. As most of Hermione's presents consisted of books, whether fiction or nonfiction, science or magic, she didn't have this problem. Instead, she rested the book in her lap and, during something she deemed uninteresting on the news, she would crack open the book and begin to read while waiting for something to catch her interest.

She almost missed it. Enthralled with the intricacies of _Science Versus Magic: When the Worlds Collide_ by Matilda Muggs (a thoughtful present from Duo; one she hadn't expected) she was barely aware of her surroundings when a name pierced the fog around her ears.

"Tomorrow marks the sixteenth annual public opening of Colonial leader Heero Yuy's private mausoleum. Yuy was a prominent figure in standing up for equal rights amongst the colonies and peace between both the Earth Alliance and the Sphere United -coincidentally, today's new Earth Sphere Alliance was named in reverence to this great man whose life was cut short when he was assassinated on April 7th in the year AC 175."

"Yuy's remaining family will be holding a small memorial service for anyone who wishes to visit the mausoleum, which is only open to the public one day out of the year."

"Speaking of Heero Yuy," the female reporter said, turning to her male counterpart, "have you seen this boy?"

Hermione frowned down at her book, glancing up from the text to see a blurred black and white photo flash on screen. She could make out wild, dark hair, a wiry frame... The photo was too low in quality to actually make out any distinct features, but...

... It was recognizable enough.

Heero Yuy. Duo's friend and new Slytherin.

"He's between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, 5"4' or 5"5', with blue eyes and brown hair. He's been known to wear a green muscle shirt and either faded blue jeans or black spandex shorts. He goes by the name of Heero Yuy, and he's suspected of terrorist activities during the War to End All Wars. Though his role in the war is unrevealed at this time, the Earth Sphere Alliance has declared that Yuy is wanted for questioning at this time. If you happen to see Yuy at any given time, the Earth Sphere Alliance and the media strongly urge that you do not, in any way, approach or irritate Yuy. The preferred method of dealing with this sighting is if you contact the local authorities immediately and evacuate the area. Relena Dorlian, former Queen of the World and princess and heir apparent of Sanq Kingdom, maintains her stance that Heero Yuy is not a threat and is, in fact, a good friend of hers. She urges the Earth Sphere Alliance to revoke the warrant of arrest, but so far, the Earth Sphere Alliance has left her plea unanswered."

"Along with Yuy," the male anchorman said in lieu of his female counterpart, "are his cohorts, one Trowa Barton; however, little is known about Barton, and the authorities cannot seem to find an appropriate photo to give us any indication as to what he looks like. He is approximately 5"7', green eyes, with light to medium brown hair.

Another of Yuy and Barton's partners is a confirmed Gundam pilot. Duo Maxwell-"

Hermione could barely breathe for the sudden intensity of her lungs seizing up, the book in her limp hands falling noisily to the floor. _That's... That's not possible... Duo's a wizard!_

"-is the only confirmed Gundam pilot at this date." Instead of a picture this time, a prerecorded video reel began to play, a cheering, jostling crowd of supporters silently egging on the woman at the podium. The camera took that moment to pan in to the side, revealing the limp form of a boy that was being supported mercilessly by the elbows. While his head was bowed, revealing no facial features to the camera, the long braid trailing down his black clad back was unmistakable. The camera froze, and the screen panned back to reveal the solemn face of the anchorman.

"Duo Maxwell is reportably the Gundam pilot responsible for the destruction of Manson Marines Base outside of Honolulu, Hawaii, killing a hundred and fifty two Marines personnel and costing the United States up to four billion dollars in damage. He's also one of two Gundams responsible for the destruction of the Lunar Base that was destroyed a little more than fourteen months ago."

"Maxwell has quite the reputation for sticking close to popular figureheads," the anchorwoman continued, "and it is for that reason that most speculate why the Earth Sphere Alliance is also looking for Quatre Winner, heir of the Winner fortune and inactive CEO of Winner Enterprises; and Chang Wufei, head of and only surviving member of the Chang clan of L5. The Earth Sphere Alliance, while tightlipped about their reasons for wanting these boys, is unclear at this time, but spokesperson for the E.S.A., Alicia Handle, has emphasized time and time again that the speculation that Winner and Chang may have funded Maxwell's operation is unfound."

"This is almost mind-boggling, Trina," the anchorman said, turning to his counterpart. "None of the boys wanted by the Earth Sphere Alliance seem to be over the age of eighteen. It's a dispiriting moment indeed when mere teenagers already have such negative publicity."

"You're right, Tod," Trina said. "What's most dispiriting about the manhunt for these boys is that the presence of the one confirmed Gundam pilot indeed supports the rumors that at least one, maybe all of the Gundam pilots, are barely out of their childhood."

"There's one other thing that the E.S.A. hasn't confirmed, and it's whether all of the boys being pursued at this moment are Gundam pilots," Tod pointed out. "Five boys, five Gundam pilots -the chances of it being mere guilt by association are astronomical. It would also explain why the five fugitives have the support of such powerful figureheads like Relena Dorlian Peacecraft, former Queen of the World; Lady Une, former commander under General Trieze Khushrenada and current head of the Preventers Organization; and Milliardo Peacecraft, formerly known as Zechs Marquise of General Khushrenada's army, later defected to head the extremist White Fang group, now a Preventer agent himself. All of these people from opposite sides of the battle that occurred only last year seem to be pulling for these boys. I tell you, Trina, this could only immortalize the boys in the eyes of some, and damn them in the eyes of others."

"Of course, the Gundam pilots are held in high regards in most circles," Trina added, "while some who have lost family and friends to their outrageous attacks are clamoring for accountability. The Gundam pilots are the same people who almost single-handedly saved the Earth from an eternal winter after one of them, pilot of Gundam designation Wing Zero, went to great lengths and at the risk of his own life to destroy a large piece of the Libra base while entering Earth's atmosphere, nearly tearing his suit apart. For that alone, he is a hero in the eyes of many."

"That's not to say these five boys are Gundam pilots, Trina," Tod reminded her. "For now, it's only speculation that all five boys are Gundam pilots."

"Coming up after the break-"

But Hermione didn't hear much of anything beyond that point. She dazedly excused herself from the den and went to her room, her mind filled with confusion and questions, and none of the immediate answers were comforting at all.

----------

Duo didn't think it was possible for anyone to be any happier than he was on that Christmas day. No one fought, no lives were taken, no blood was shed, and even Draco managed to keep a civil tongue -mostly. Besides that one infraction where Draco had insisted that the new clothes he'd given Harry were actually necessary because -quote "Your wardrobe is absolutely atrocious; I should have received compensation pay for going through it" to which Harry replied angrily, "You went through my stuff!" unquote- nothing bad happened. In fact, that one situation was defused rather quickly when Duo pointed out that, like the linoluem (which still made Duo laugh out loud), Draco probably meant the clothes as something of a joke.

Duo still wanted to know how those two managed to find appropriate gag gifts for each other on such short notice. He'd planned to grill them later to find out their secrets.

The others had gone off to their own towers to drop off their new goodies -well, all except Draco, who was still reclined on the Gryffindor couch playing a four hour long marathon of Tetris. Harry had decided to sneak off with Heero and Trowa to go plunder through Slytherin territory (something about not-so-fond memories, Crabbe, Goyle, a potion, and Hermione turning into a half-cat half-human thing), leaving Duo with no company other than himself.

He left the paper where it lay; somehow, messes in the Gryffindor common room always managed to find themselves tidied up again, so Duo saw no reason to break his back picking everything up. He chalked it up to the magic that was Hogwarts (Hermione would be furious if she ever heard that Duo was leaving things for the house elves to clean up, never mind that he didn't realize there were actual little gremlin things following him around waiting to do such things for him). As he was finding places to put all of his new stuff, he paused to lift the chimes from their bed of velvet, enjoying the way the light reflected and shot off in every which angle.

Maybe Heero really did like him. Well, he knew the Japanese pilot once had a _crush_ on him (that thought still boggled the mind), but Duo had no idea if Heero still felt that way. The present, though... And Heero's reaction to finding out that Duo had a crush on him, too...

"There's hope in that guy yet," Duo announced drily to the empty common room, hanging the chime directly above his bed where his head would lay so he could stare at it and be reminded nightly that this was just further proof that Heero might care.

He didn't notice the lone gift lying at the foot of his bed until he was finished hanging his chimes. It was slim black box tied with a gold ribbon. Duo's immediate thought was that it must have been from Heero; another gift that Heero wanted to keep between them. Only Heero would realize that his favorite colors were gold and black. The thought made him smile giddily as he fell back on his calves after pulling the gift toward him.

The American pilot carefully slid the bow away and slid the lid off of the box. Nestled in soft, wispy black paper was what looked like a leather holster of some sort, but not for a gun; the shape was all wrong. After a moment he slid the buckles from their trappings and managed to wrap the black holster carefully around his forearm, smiling as the thick of the holster fit comfortably at the underside of his arm, starting just above his wrist and ending just below his elbow. He flicked his wrist to test the feel of it, and was startled to find that something had slid effortlessly from the holster and into the flat of his palm, his fingers automatically wrapping around the cool cylinder object.

"Weird stuff, Heero," Duo murmured aloud, studying the cylinder with a careful eye. He could hardly tell if it were wooden or metal. As a test, he wrapped it once against his headboard. For the second time in less than a minute, Duo was startled to find that, instead of a cylinder object as long as his forearm in his hands, he had a six foot tall bo staff.

"Cool," Duo breathed, crawling out of bed and standing tall, setting the bo staff on the floor. He wrapped it twice against the floor, expecting it to retract. Instead, there was a slick shink of noise that indicated a blade was being drawn, and the curved blade flipped out from the top of the staff, curved to a deadly point.

"A scythe..." Duo whispered. "Heero, you know me so well it's almost scary." With three more raps against the floorboard, the scythe became an unassuming cylinder object once again.

He didn't just like his gift. He freaking _loved_ it, and he was planning to show Heero just how much he appreciated his new present.

_**END CHAPTER FOURTEEN**_

* * *

**(1) Kudos to whoever recognizes the popular cult classic _Happy Tree Friends_. You few are officially on my cool list. If you haven't had the pleasure of watching a few episodes of cute, adorable furry cartoon animals dying painful, graphic, and often gruesome deaths, I'm deeply ashamed. If you have G4TV, otherwise known as the gaming network, home of such shows as _Attack of the Show!_ and _X-Play_, you're in luck; _Happy Tree Friends and Friends _plays ever Wednesday night at midnight (11:00 p.m. central). It re-airs at 3:00 a.m. (2:00 a.m. central). Watch it and be merry. If you don't have it, feel free to scrounge up enough cash and head off to your nearest Hot Topic -or any other punk store where they sale smarmy black t-shirts, wicked punk accessories, garage band shirts, and Hello! Kitty accessories. (Because, for reasons I've yet to find out, Hello! Kitty is just so popular in the grung/punk world...)**

* * *


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Fifteen**_

Boxing Day passed quietly enough. Well, as quietly a day could pass when Duo had no idea that such a day had any significance, or even existed, for that matter. He wasn't informed that it had been a holiday until late in the evening, to which he blankly responded, "Another one?" while he was curled in a blanket with Heero... who, surprisingly enough, didn't quite look so strange wrapped in a blanket with another human being. If it hadn't been for Death Glare 42 (a.k.a. "I want to hurt you. Severely. Come here...") that was so clearly written across the Japanese boy's face, he'd look almost hospitable.

Draco absently mentioned that he'd hoped being in an actual relationship with someone who had a full range of emotions would perhaps soften Heero up a little. His hopes were shot when Trowa broke script long enough to scoff at him.

The faculty of Hogwarts seemed to be in a constant state of shock and uncertainty that Draco was actually interacting with Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff in the first place. Not only did they catch the rare sight of Draco holding a somewhat civil conversation with Duo and Quatre (mostly from fear of their boyfriends, who, as he repeated time and time again to himself, he had to share a dorm with), but there was actually very little violent outbursts when his tentative civility with Duo and Quatre forced him in the same proximity of the Boy Who Lived for extended periods of time. Flitwick assured everyone that he was keeping one eye out for other signs that indicated the end of existence, but so far, there were none.

"How long, exactly, do you think you can keep up this sudden tolerance of all things loyal and brave?" Snape asked the Malfoy heir out of the blue.

"Why?"

That's when Draco learned of the running bet some of the professors had the tenacity to arrange. In true Slytherin fashion, Draco asked about the odds.

"Ten to one you'll go back to being your normal bratty self by the time break is over," Snape replied blandly.

"With those kinds of odds," Draco said with a smirk, "and about fifty galleons from me, I could probably keep this up for the rest of the year."

"That won't be too taxing for you?"

"If I go any longer than that, I might snap and kill you all with a smile on my face. But yeah -I can survive the rest of the school year."

Not long after, Snape put a combined total of one hundred galleons into the betting pool, aimed against the odds. Most professors immediately suspected foul play, of course; Severus Snape was never one to be so positive about any aspect of life.

"Suddenly I need an ulterior motive to be sanguine?" Snape snapped irritably at McGonagall.

"It's not that you need an ulterior motive to be optimistic," McGonagall replied stiffly, her tone clearly saying that she was lying through her teeth, "it's just that we didn't think you were capable of anything resembling optimism."

Dumbledore, in true senile fashion, smiled whimsically and said, "Ah, but Minerva, that just proves that even our dear Severus can hope." McGonagall didn't think Albus had anything to say about it, though; not a full minute after Snape declared his bet, the Headmaster had put fifteen galleons on the same odds.

Most of the staff made noises about inside sources being made and the bet being fixed, but with a blandly stated, scathing comment about how only losers complain about unproved accusations, they all settled down to darkly contemplate on if their bank accounts could support the guaranteed financial loss on what was once a guaranteed financial gain.

Heero and Duo weren't the only new couple "cuddling by the fireplace", as it were, though Trowa and Quatre were far more discrete about their budding relationship... most of the time. There had been that one point in time when Ponoma Sprout had caught them in one heavy make-out session in one of Hogwarts vast and many corridors. Quatre still couldn't meet her eyes, though Trowa had no problem with this concept. Trowa's frank stare, more often than not, made Sprout nervous to the point of twitching sporadically.

It was late evening on the 31st of December when Wufei -surrounded once again by Duo and Heero sharing a chair, Trowa and Quatre sitting together on the floor near the fireplace sharing a blanket, leaving him with sitting between Draco and Harry- suddenly realized that he was probably the only truly straight individual in the room. Even Potter and Malfoy had been making eyes at each other under every sarcastic remark and rude retort.

It was a strangely intimidating thought.

Duo broke the silence by suddenly announcing, "I'm going to introduce the wizarding world to the wonderful concept of Skittles. Out of all muggle candies, I miss those the most."

"Random much?" Draco said lazily, hardly turning his attention from that blasted handheld game Duo had gotten him for Christmas.

Oddly enough, Duo laughed. "It's my New Years Resolution. What, wizards don't do those, either?"

"No one's ever mentioned it to me," Harry said with a shrug. "Not many muggles practice it anymore either."

"Yeah, well, I'm from the Maxwell Church Orphanage, and we always stuck with traditions," Duo said with a quick grin.

"They named a church after you?"

"More like I was named after the church," Duo said casually. "My first name comes from a kid who used to run the gang I was in -Solo. Father Maxwell is the man who was the prime father figure in my life, so I took his name for myself, as well. It helps keep the happy experiences in my life fresh."

"So Duo isn't your real name?" Draco asked, pausing in his game to give the American boy a searching look.

"It's real because it's mine," Duo said with a shrug. "I gave it to me. Before Solo, I was just Kid."

A small smile tilted the corner of Trowa's mouth as he found his hand held within the warm palm of his boyfriend. "It's the same for me, as well. Before Trowa Barton, I was merely Nanashi." The unibanged boy thought about it for a moment before adding calmly, "Though Trowa Barton is merely a name I stole from a dead man."

"Right," Draco said slowly, going further to add, "You took your name from a dead guy? Creepy, but oddly effective."

"So neither of you knows your real name?" Harry asked, his curiosity somewhat peeked.

"Ollivander mentioned it when I got my wand," Duo said dismissively. "I didn't really care at the time. He was testing the limits of my weirdo-o-meter as it was. Man's seriously in need of some kind of social interaction that doesn't involve wands."

Harry could completely sympathize with that.

"New Years Resolutions, hm?" Draco murmured absently. "Well. I think I'll make a resolution to tease more Hufflepuffs. They've been woefully ignored by the silver tongue of the snake these past few months. I'm afraid they'll start to get uppity if someone doesn't do something soon." Duo laughed helplessly at the self-sacrificial tone that Draco took on for that one declaration.

"That's not how it works, Malfoy," Harry said irritably.

"Shut up, Potter. You have no control over _my_ choice of resolution."

"What about you, Wuffers? Any New Years Resolutions from your end?"

"I don't celebrate New Years until February, Maxwell," Wufei said evenly. "You know that."

"Humor me."

The Chinese youth's face clearly stated that such was the way events usually ended up, and he sometimes couldn't fathom why he tried to fight it. "Fine. I resolve to carry the memory of both Meiran and my people for another year."

"Oooh," Draco said silkily. "China boy has a girlfriend."

"Wife," Wufei muttered. "Dead. Two years ago."

Duo favored the Chinese youth with an understanding smile. "Wow, Dray -way to insert a foot into your mouth."

"And yet," Draco said casually, quickly trying to smooth over his social faux pas, "still plenty of room for the other one."

Harry snorted derisively. Wasn't _that_ a damn shame.

"What's that, Potter?" Draco said sardonically. "Going to tell us your New Years Resolution? I'm going to take a guess and say it has something to do with saving the world, one abominably cute kitten at a time."

"Actually," Harry said with a virulent glare at the Slytherin Prince, "mine's more along the path of staying out of trouble for the year. As you can imagine, it never really works out."

"Speaking of kittens," Trowa said idly, "have you realized Precious is pregnant?"

"What?" For once, the normally well-informed Malfoy heir seemed completely shocked. "She can't be! There aren't any male cats in the Slytherin dorm -plus, she's a lounge cat. She's too damn lazy to actually do something productive, much less mate!"

"Why am I not surprised you're a cat person?" Harry wondered aloud. "Precious. You know, as far as the normal Slytherin temperament goes, I never expected you to name your familiar something as... disgustingly sweet as Precious."

"His family's owl is named Duster," Heero informed them with a smirk.

Duo guffawed into Heero's shoulder. "As in, 'feather duster'? Dray, man, you're just too much!"

"Oh, shut up," Draco mumbled, spots of pink on his pale cheeks. "All the other cool, vaguely dangerous animal names are overused. And what makes you think Precious is pregnant, anyway?"

"I like cats," Trowa said with a simple shrug.

"He means that," Duo added with a grin. "All kinds of felines, in fact. Trowa's the only guy I know who will crawl into a cage with lions to cuddle."

Draco decided that was simply too mind-boggling to really comment on. "Urgh. Pregnant. God, I hope she picked a good looking male, at least."

"If you consider Crookshanks the epitome of beauty in male cats," Trowa said evenly. "He's the only other cat I've seen her around on a consistent basis."

Both Harry and Duo couldn't stop the incredulous laughter that spilled out of them at that announcement.

"Who's Crookshanks?" Draco demanded, having the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"We -we're not even sure Crookshanks is a full-blooded cat," Harry giggled, burying his face in the arm of the couch. "He's -he's ginger-haired and looks like someone took a frying pan to his face!"

The utter horror that passed over Draco's face even spurred Wufei to stifle his amusement. "My gorgeous Precious... shagged the feline equivalent of a _Weasley_!"

Harry wanted to defend his friend; he really, really did. But the sheer repugnance on Draco's face was almost worth letting the insult to his surrogate family slide. Though, after his giggling fit died down, he did plan to somehow exact revenge for that slight against the Weasleys.

"Oh, the hilarity doesn't end there," Duo howled. "Crookshanks is _Hermione's_ cat! Congratulations! You're forever bonded through your cats' libidos!"

"NOOOOOOO!" Draco howled despondently.

----------

"This is a night that'll probably stay with me forever."

"You mean the part where Malfoy started freaking out over what his damn cat's future progeny will look like, or the part where each horrible scenario started sounding more and more like Ron's face on a kitten's body?" Harry asked sarcastically, flopping down on his bed with a tired sigh. He stifled the urge to groan when he glanced outside, clearly seeing the sky beginning to light in the east. "It must be at least around five. How did you convince me to stay up this late?"

Duo glanced casually outside, tilting his head to the side minutely before correcting Harry's earlier assessment. "It's about oh-six-hundred. Time really flies when you're with friends."

"Hm..." Friends. Oh, God. Was that what he and Malfoy were? _He has been hanging around a lot... and I stopped minding after Christmas. Besides the frequent urge to slug him, I haven't really felt the overwhelming need to find a place to bury his mutilated corpse. And once you look passed the scathing sarcasm, the cruel cynicism, and his tendency to be a complete prat, he's marginally tolerable some of the time._

_Ron's going to kill me. How the hell did I manage to unknowingly make nice with _Malfoy

"You know, Harry, you actually impressed me tonight," Duo said with a grin, reclining against the baseboard of his bed as he pulled on a warm pair of socks. "When it started sounding like Dray was mentally pasting Ron's face on Precious' future kittens, I thought you were going to hex him."

"I thought I was, too," Harry admitted, grinning at the memory of Draco's face, "until I realized he actually sounded terrified. I really think he was this far shy of a panic attack." He held his thumb only scant millimeters from his forefinger to indicate the distance. "I figured anything I did to him wouldn't really stand up to the torture he was putting himself through."

"I know, right?" Duo snickered, wiggling his toes in his newly adorned socks in pleasure before getting to his feet. He shoved the handle of his brush between his teeth as he pulled the tie out of his braid, carefully unraveling the rope of hair before he began his nightly ritual of combing the tangles of the day away. As always, his hair had pronounced waves from its almost constant bindings. Harry thought, with his hair loose and fanning around him like it was, Duo might have looked like a mischievous fairy or a tricky nymph with his elfin face and unusual amethyst eyes.

"See, that's why I let a lot of things slide off my back," Duo went on, stroking the brush through his shiny hair. "Why get so uptight over something like that when, eventually, you'll start to find that a lack of reaction is what someone like Draco really _can't_ stand. Guys like him need to pick on other people -makes him feel better about his own inadequacies, imagined or real. They thrive on negative attention and the anger of others, and when they can't get that, nothing seems to piss 'em off more. Know what I mean?"

"I guess," Harry said lazily, thoughtful. It made sense, actually; the less Harry reacted to a lot of things Malfoy said or did, the more fanatical Malfoy was about getting a reaction. "So why do you like him?"

"He's honest."

Harry snorted.

"Well, obviously he lies," Duo amended with a small grin. "Most people do. I mean, Draco really doesn't beat around the bush -he just beats the bush. Teaches it a lesson. If he doesn't like something, he's going to speak his mind -in spades. And if he doesn't like someone, he's certainly going to let that person and the world know it. I guess I really like him as a friend because he's really not afraid to question authority, especially when he thinks he's better than that authority. He reminds me of myself in that respect. Not too many people will stick by their guns these days.

"And let's not forget that Slytherins, while crafty and ambitious, are very predictable," Duo added with a snicker. "I mean, Draco likes to push buttons without really realizing he has a lot of potential buttons that very few people are willing to push because of his station and his family. Plus, his survival instinct is almost crafted to perfection. I've only ever seen him back down from what he really wants to say when he thinks his life's on the line; that's mostly in regards to insulting Quatre, Trowa, and Heero, though."

Harry's eyebrows rose as he considered the American serenely combing through his long chestnut tresses. "You really put a lot of thought into people, don't you?"

Duo smiled absently. "Weird survival instinct." Duo's eyes flickered over to Harry for a moment. "Wanna know why I like you? I'll go ahead and tell you it's not because you're Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived -liked you way before I knew about that little nickname, Heroboy, and I could care less anyhow."

Harry sat up, his interest piqued. "I'm listening."

"While Draco's honest when it comes to his beliefs, his likes, and his dislikes," Duo said, "you're true to yourself. You don't try to hide behind a fake persona just because it's what everyone expects of you, even though you're very conscious that you're not who everyone thinks you are. Whereas Draco wears his mind on his sleeve, you wear your heart in much of the same way. You understand that, while selflessness is a very admirable trait, sometimes it's a little healthy to be selfish too, even though it makes you feel terrible to think that way. You know when it's okay to share your thoughts with your friends, but you know exactly what you should keep to yourself, as well.

"But I think the most admirable thing about you," the American boy said with a flourish, his fingers sliding through his hair and braiding it quickly more out of familiarity than actual effort, "is that you don't seem to understand just how special you are without the whole Boy Who Lived crap hanging over you. You're a humble guy, Harry, and you're very complex. Humble but confident, self-conscious but brave, uncertain but willful.You're the complete antithesis of yourself and you don't even seem to realize how refreshing that is. While Draco is predictable in that he'll always act like a Slytherin, you're very unpredictable in a way that I never seem to know exactly how you're going to react."

Duo grinned, flashing Harry a wink. "Of course, that's Hee-chan's pet peeve about you, you know. Unpredictable is like a curse word to him. You make him really nervous."

"What?" Harry sputtered, mentally goggling over _him_ making someone like Heero nervous. "Are you bloody serious? Heero certainly doesn't act like I make him nervous -sometimes those looks he gets make me want to run very far away very fast."

Duo laughed. "It's Hee-chan, man, of course he's not going to let you see that you make him nervous! You do, though. To tell the truth, you made me nervous, too, at first. Guys like me and Hee-chan and even Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei -we like to know every possible scenario at any given moment. We make it top priority to use what we know of people's everyday actions to predict how the same people will react to a situation that could possibly cause us and them harm. In that way, we're better prepared to act fast with minimal screw-ups because of outside influences. You, Mr. Potter, are what we call the Unknown Variable, or the Thirty-Three-Point-Three. 33.3 percent chance you'll do this, 33.3 percent chance you'll do something completely opposite, and then 33.3 percent chance you'll do something in the middle. Understand?"

Harry mulled over that for only a moment before asking quietly, "Is it because you're soldiers?"

Duo didn't even bat an eyelash. "What gave us away?"

"So you're not going to deny it?"

"I don't lie, Harry -or did you think I lied about that?"

"I put two and two together," Harry admitted softly, tugging insistently at the sleeve of his worn pajama top. "The way you and your friends talk to each other -I don't even think you realize you sometimes refer to each other by number instead of name."

"Old habits."

"And... Malfoy and I overheard you and Quatre in the hospital wing when you two were talking," Harry admitted. "We only caught the tale ending, and I was too curious for my own good -I don't know why Malfoy was there, though. I heard enough to realize there was a lot more to you and your past than you really cared to admit."

"That was ages ago," Duo murmured, absently playing with the end of his braid. "I'm guessing you didn't tell Mione or Ron."

"Dumbledore asked us not to," Harry admitted, "but I don't think I would have told them anyway. Hermione would have gone conspiracy theory on me, and Ron has a tendency to overreact or underreact to things, depending on how they relate to him."

Duo chuckled softly. "Yeah, that's how I imagine how those two starcross'd lovers would react."

"How did you do it?" Harry asked bluntly. "I mean, you were soldiers, and you... mentioned that you'd taken lives. How did you...?" Harry stopped, sighing before continuing, "I found out that I'm probably going to end up killing Voldemort eventually, or be killed by him. Even if it is Voldemort, the thought of taking life makes me feel like I'd be no better than him. But you're clearly a good person, or..."

"That's a really simple question with a very complicated answer, Harry," Duo said delicately, meeting Harry's myopic green eyes evenly. "I never enjoyed it, and you won't either. It's a sad fact that someone has to do it, and... I made the choice to become who I am so others wouldn't have to. Because I was doing what I thought was right. I still think everything I did was for the right reasons. Unfortunately, Voldemort does the same thing. What makes it different from Voldemort is that I didn't enjoy it, whereas he clearly does. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I think so," Harry replied slowly. "You're saying that, even though it's basically the same practice, you did what needed to be done for what you thought was the greater good, even though you didn't enjoy it. Voldemort believes the same thing, but he obviously enjoys it too much."

"Something like that," Duo said faintly, staring blindly toward the large window Harry often liked to sit under. In the distance, the light in the sky had very obviously grown brighter. "The men I fought and killed died with honor, and I never attacked innocent civilians if I could help it. But I had less than honorable intentions, Harry. I wanted revenge for what they took away from me." The American glanced back toward Harry for a moment. "You remember hearing me mention that I lived in the Maxwell Church Orphanage for a time?"

Harry nodded silently.

"What I don't tell people is that the reason I didn't stay at the orphanage was because the Federation bombed it years ago, killing over two hundred men, women, and children," Duo said solemnly. "They bombed the church because of the terrorists inside, but they were only a dozen or so. The rest were orphans like me, Father Maxwell, and Sister Helen. I was the only survivor."

Harry didn't know how to reply to that. He was... horrified. Of course he was horrified. But somehow he didn't think saying something as stupid as sorry or doing the equivalent of a pat on the back and going "there, there" would really comfort Duo as much as it would irritate him, so he refrained from saying anything.

"After the plague, I thought, eventually, my time would be up, too. And the moment I had something to live for, Death took it all away again, leaving me with nothing." Duo's voice sounded distant, his eyes focused not on Harry, but somewhere behind him. "I was pissed, and... I wanted revenge. It was my luck that I manage to come across the right people who needed someone small and scrawny like me, who didn't fear Death but instead took the moniker of God of Death all for the sake of pissing off a higher being... and that, somehow, the belief that everyone I could or would ever care about would eventually die because of me gave me something of a complex at the time.

"I was a sight to fear on the battlefield, Harry -always grinning, always cackling, playing loud obnoxious music as I made like killing my enemies was no big deal. And one day, when things started coming to a big finish, and I was still grinning and cackling and joking around even as I dealt out destruction and death, Quatre contacted me over the intercom and said something that made me think, 'My God -I even have myself fooled into thinking all of this is okay.'"

"What did he say?"

Duo smiled humorlessly. "He told me he could hear me crying." The American chuckled softly. "Q-bean... he's always had that empathy thing going for him. Until then, I'd never even realized that dealing with the war the way I did wasn't really the healthy way to do things. It was tearing me up on the inside. I vowed to find a better outlet for my frustrations, but... Heero saved the day. As usual. And there wasn't a reason for me to kill anymore.

"It took me several months to really find myself after that. I rarely corresponded with the guys, I traveled alone and inconspicuously, and I stayed away from heavily populated areas just so I could have time to think. What was there left for me to do? I was never really much of a school brat, but I knew a lot about science, mechanics, math... School was too easy. Lady Une offered me a position with the Preventers, but it was too weird to be under her command after I'd fought against OZ for so long. I could have just settled down and relaxed, but I'm more of an action guy. Even Relena tried to help me find my way, but besides being a kick ass bodyguard, she really had nothing to offer me.

"Then, one day, I got the letter from Dumbledore." Duo chuckled. "He didn't really go into the whole magic stuff until I met with him, though. It took him some time to really convince me that magic was real. When he finally did, though, I realized that this could be it. My new drive in life. It's school, but... it's so much better than that. Normal school was something I knew too much about, but a school for magic... that was new. And I went for it."

"And here you are," Harry murmured.

"And here I am," Duo confirmed with a nod, smiling. "See, Harry, I did some pretty terrible things that, in the end, saved a lot of people from a lot of pain and suffering. If you have to do Voldemort in to achieve the same results, it won't make you a terrible person. Taking life... there's no excuse for that, but it's the way the world works, you know? Sacrifices made so others don't have to suffer anymore. The difference between you and me is that no one is going to condemn you for doing the world a favor; hell, they're counting on you to do it, whereas the people I bloodied my hands for turned their backs on me the first chance they got. In the end, all that really matters is that no one has to suffer or be afraid anymore... at least until the next bad thing comes along, but hopefully, that's way after our lifetime."

When Duo finally turned his back on Harry to busy himself with his nightly ritual (_Or_, Harry amended mentally with a sardonic glance toward the well lit sky, _early morning, in this case_...), the myopic boy took that as an indication that the conversation was over, and Duo wasn't going to say much else about the subject. Still, the American, while somewhat vague and distant with his monologue, had been very frank and honest with his answers. Harry couldn't remember a time he'd seen Duo so serious for such a long length of time.

To kill or to be killed. That was what it boiled down to, wasn't it? But it was so much more complex than that; Harry couldn't seem to get passed the concept that taking away another person's life, no matter who he was or what he did, was still morally wrong and would make him no better than Voldemort. Even so, Duo had a very good point; if Harry didn't do stop Voldemort... who would? Dumbledore was powerful in his own right, but no matter how childish and eccentric the aging Headmaster acted, he was still aging. It all came down to him, the Boy Who Lived -defeated Voldemort through a fluke when he was a baby, so he must be able to do it as a somewhat competent teenaged wizard as well, right?

Right?

Harry wasn't so sure. No matter how optimistic everyone was, he felt his ability with magic was mediocre at best, even after doing so much research for great dueling strategies and spells. How was he supposed to do it? With an Unforgivable? Even if he was the Boy Who Lived, Harry doubted the Ministry was going to bend that far backwards to keep him out of Azkaban for using a banned Unforgivable, even if it was for the good of the wizarding world. Dumbledore always hinted that Harry had hidden power, but... he just couldn't see it. Besides Parseltongue, he really had no outstanding grasp on some hidden well of power... and he certainly wasn't willing to go to the lengths Voldemort had gone to in order to learn Dark magic.

"Hey." Harry started, blinking owlishly as he looked back up at Duo. The braided boy smiled at him, as if somehow mentally conveying that he completely understood. "Don't think too much about it, Harry. Things tend to work out themselves in the end, and..." The boy laughed sheepishly. "I know it sounds crazy -the only people I've ever really trusted were my comrades, Howard, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, and Solo- but... I have confidence in you. You'll do what's right for you, and that's all that matters. To hell with anyone who doesn't like the way you handle your business. Right?"

"Right..."

"Of course I'm right," Duo boasted, stretching his lithe form and yawning. "Gah... Couple of hours of about twenty winks, and I'll be right as rain by lunchtime."

"Says you," Harry mumbled, feeling the exhaustion slowly creep up his spine as he shoved a pillow under his chin. "Wake me around lunch and I might have to try to hurt you badly."

"Hah! Nothing a couple cups of coffee wouldn't cure. Don't make that face! Coffee -it's ambrosia to the gods!"

"It's bitter black piss and you know it."

"So's your English beer, but do you hear me complaining?"

"You just did."

Having no retort, Duo simply flung a pillow at Harry who, with Seeker-refined reflexes, caught the pillow and hurled it back, proving that he made a much better Seeker than he did a Chaser when he missed by a longshot, much to Duo's amusement. Instead, the pillow sailed into the curtains hanging around Duo's bed, clearly making contact with something solid and knocking it off the other side of the bed.

"Pause," Duo called, retrieving the object. Harry saw the American's bright smile of pleasure when he stooped over and picked a large, black package with gold ribbons off of the floor.

"Aw, Hee-chan," the boy murmured fondly, "you certainly know when a guy needs a pick-me-up, don't you?"

"What is it?" Harry asked, clambering to sit on the side of his bed facing Duo.

"Hee-chan's Secret Santa mission," Duo said mischievously. "I'd tell him that it's only for Christmas, but -new pressie. Who could break his heart like that?"

"Right," Harry said, his tone clearly stating that it was more for Duo's benefit than Heero's. "How do you know it's from Heero?"

"Who else would be sending me secret presents?" Duo pointed out simply, sitting on his bed and pulling the ribbons away. "He knows my favorite color is black, and the last present he secretly sent me was so totally wicked and meant for me, man. Only Heero would think of something like it. Score!" Duo howled, lifting the lid from the box and peering inside.

Instead of the unadulterated glee Harry expected, Duo's excitement faded into puzzlement. Slowly, the braided American reached inside and pulled out... a rather large, fluffy blue bear. Harry blinked, finding himself at a loss -Heero didn't seem like the type to send something like a stuffed animal, especially to Duo, who wasn't quite _that_ childlike even at his worst.

"Heero has a really odd sense of humor, doesn't he?" Harry mused aloud, glancing at Duo's face. He immediately realized something was terribly wrong by the stricken look he found there. "Duo...?"

"It's not from Heero," Duo whispered, his fingers tightening around the bear. "Heero wouldn't be this cruel. But... who sent it?"

"Duo, what's wrong?"

Slowly, dazed, the braided American turned the bear around to show Harry the front of the sash that wound from the bear's shoulder to its waist.

Printed in cruel, beautiful script, the bright red words declared, "Baby's First Birthday."

**_END CHAPTER FIFTEEN_**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Sixteen**_

"... Duo?" Harry probed quietly, hoping to encourage any kind of reaction from the unnaturally quiet American who, after showing Harry the message scrawling across the bear's front, turned the stuffed animal back around and began to stare sightlessly at the gift. The Gryffindor Golden Boy was at a loss as to why a gift, while somewhat strange and slightly creepy, would spur such a distant reaction from the braided boy.

Duo didn't move for a long moment before, finally, he precariously set the mysterious gift to the side. "Hmm?"

"You didn't tell me today was your birthday."

"It's not."

Oh. _Maybe that's why Duo's so out of it..._

"I mean, it couldn't be," Duo said absently, his eyes still studying the present. "No one could know when my birthday is -I don't even know when my birthday is. The chances of today being my birthday is one out of, well, 365, if I include leap year..."

_How could someone not know when his own birthday is?_ Harry wondered to himself. He realized it was possible that Duo didn't know because the American admitted readily enough that, as far as he could remember, he was a street rat. Any life before that was completely lost in the hazy memory of early childhood.

"... and if I had a birthday, I would hope it would be set sometime in July, probably on the twenty-fifth, because that's exactly six months away from Christmas and affords me multiple gifts every six months. If today _is_ my birthday, I'm getting completely gypped because who wants to buy anyone a birthday present right after they wasted all of their money on Christmas?"

Rambling. Harry recognized the sign for what it was; Duo was upset and, to keep himself from showing his frustration, he would begin to ramble rather light-heartedly to detract attention from what he was feeling. He did it the same day his friends arrived, too...

"Yeah, I'd definitely rather my birthday be in July. And since today couldn't possibly be my birthday, I hereby declare my birthday July 25. You'll come to my party, right? Of course you would. And Heero, Trowa, Quatre, Wufei, Draco, Hermione, and Ron will be there too. You think Ron and Draco will argue a lot? I love it when Draco's all snarky and Ron's all indignant. Family feuds are so stupid it's funny." Duo stood up suddenly, going for the door.

"Duo! What-?"

"I'm going for a walk. Y'know, I'm not so sleepy anymore. Strangest thing. Hey, you think I'll run into Sevy? He's always fun to ramble at. I love seeing his hopes that I'll pass out from lack of oxygen so he can leave me in a cold corridor to catch something fatal and die slowly crumble when I keep going. You'd think he'd never heard of circular breathing, which, I'm proud to say, I excel at. I'll see you at breakfast, right? Or, y'know, maybe lunch, since you'll be sleeping through breakfast. Well, maybe not lunch, either, because you said that if anyone woke you at lunch you'd be forced to take extreme actions. Dinner, then? Dinner it is. I'll see you later, man."

"Duo..." But the American was already closing the door behind him, pajama clad and all. "Damn it..."

What now? Heero. Well, of course Harry couldn't out and out _tell_ Heero what had happened because that was Duo's business, but Harry could tell Heero that Duo needed an understanding ear and a shoulder to lean on, right? So how was he supposed to get to the Slytherin dorms when they were all the way in the dungeons? If he took the direct way, he'd be stopped by the password protected entrance. And, since the Slytherin dorms were in the dungeon, there was no way he could sneak through a window, or...

_Wait._ Trowa. Trowa called the Slytherin dorms the Slytherin _Tower_. "The Slytherin Tower has an amazing view over the Forbidden Forest -so much so that I've actually seen unicorns and centaurs through the window." Harry wasn't even going to contemplate how that was possible, since he knew for a fact the Slytherin common room was in the dungeons.

Hogwarts had seven towers; the Gryffindor Tower, the Hufflepuff Tower, the Ravenclaw Tower, the Headmaster's Tower, the Astronomy Tower, and the Divination Tower. Could the seventh tower be the Slytherin Tower?

Harry's eyes flickered to his broom. Only one way to find out, right? He threw himself from the warm confines of his bed and hastily placed his warmest cloak around his shoulder before he absently slipped his treasured Marauder's Map in his pocket, almost immediately noticing it was part of the wardrobe Malfoy had jokingly given him for Christmas. He didn't even try to puzzle out why that was worth noting as he took up his treasured Firebolt and flung the window open, wincing at the sharp, cold wind that sliced across his face, so cold his cheeks began to sting and his nose went curiously numb.

While the wind was strong, it was hardly the worst weather Harry had flown in, and the rising sun offered a little relief from the harsh winter temperature. The view from the window was mostly over the lake first years crossed on their first evening at Hogwarts, and there was a small corner of the Dark Forest within his vision, as well. The tower with the best view of the Forbidden Forest had to be... the one directly next to Gryffindor Tower?

"If it is Slytherin Tower," Harry mumbled as he straddled his Firebolt and pushed off the ledge, steadying the broom against the howling wind, "then talk about the irony of Slytherins and Gryffindors being civil neighbors."

He swooped low as he approached the tower, peering into the first window. A dorm room. _Hmm... Don't think I'll tell Ron about this. He might either flip or plan something that'll start an all out war. We'll never get to sleep with all of the pranks we'll be trying to pull on the Slytherin House as a whole..._

He slowly went from window to window facing the Forbidden Forest, peering inside each one until he could clearly see each was empty. Finally, after almost losing all hope that this was the right tower at all, he found a room that definitely had signs of life.

That sign of life, however, was Heero Yuy very clearly pointing a gun at Harry through the window. The Gryffindor let out a startled squawk and ducked down below the sill.

The window above him came open, allowing Harry to hear Draco's very disgruntled, "Yuy, you bastard, it's freezing outside!"

Harry bravely pulled up again, sighing in relief as he noted that Heero had lowered the gun to his side.

"Harry's here," the Gryffindor Golden Boy heard Trowa note mildly.

"Potter?"

Before Draco could say something that made Harry want to kill him, Harry looked straight into Heero's eyes and said, "Duo's upset."

Heero narrowed his eyes, causing Harry to shiver. He had a sinking suspicion it wasn't the cold that caused it.

"Ooh," he heard Draco say in awe, appearing beside Heero. "Heero Death Glare number 122: 'I would kill you myself, but I think it would be more amusing to chain you to a ceiling in the dungeons while the rats feast upon your warm, still-living organs.' Congratulations, Potter -you've successfully put Yuy into 'someone is going to die a slow and painful death' mode."

"He's not upset with me," Harry said indignantly.

"Pity," Draco drawled. Cheeky bastard... "Come in before I hex you - God, Potter, it's too cold and miserable to be putting up with you this early after we left the Gryffindor Tower."

Harry decided quickly that he wasn't going to tell Malfoy about the close proximity of the rival houses' towers, either, for much of the same reasons as he wasn't telling Ron. Heero and Draco moved to allow Harry to navigate himself inside, and Draco shut the window after him.

"What happened?" Heero demanded.

Harry paused, wondering what was within his right to tell. Even he wasn't quite sure why something like an innocent teddy bear upset Duo, other than the fact it seemed kind of creepy. "Duo... received a birthday present."

Draco's eyebrows rose in amusement. "A birthday present? Maxwell's upset because he's a year older? Isn't he a little young to be going through a mid-life crisis right now?"

"Duo doesn't have a birthday," Trowa informed him quietly. "At least, not one he's aware of."

"That's what he said," Harry said evasively, "before he started rambling. I usually take that as a sign that he's upset, but... the present itself was mildly disturbing."

"Where is he?"

"He went for a walk," Harry said, somewhat intimidated by the rather dangerous glint in Heero's eyes. "He said he'd see me later. He tried to hide it, but he was really disquieted. I did bring something that would help you find him, though."

He pulled the Marauder's Map from the depth of his pocket, unfolding the parchment halfway. Malfoy's eyebrows poised once again, the Slytherin Prince drawled, "Oh. A scrap sheet of parchment. That's loads of help."

Harry gritted his teeth together, hating that Malfoy was going to see something he would rather the Malfoy heir not see or know about at all. "It belonged to my father and his friends when they were in school. Here..." Pointing the tip of his wand at the blank parchment, he murmured lowly, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Ink began to line the parchment, starting with the typical introduction, _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP._ Harry felt Malfoy hovering over him as the parchment's lines began to darken, clearly revealing the only known map of Hogwarts. The map, true to form, started with the map's own present location, in this case, Slytherin Tower; more specifically, the room that contained Odin Lowe, Jr., Triton Bloom, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy.

Wait. Odin Lowe? Triton Bloom? Harry blinked, befuddled. The names, while unfamiliar, were faded behind the names of Trowa Barton and Heero Yuy.

Then Malfoy slapped Harry on the back of the head with a peevish growl. Harry, slightly dazed, snapped, "What was that for?"

"Damn you, Potter! Why do you get all the nifty toys?" the Malfoy heir raged before getting a better look at the map. "Faulty toy. Odin Lowe and Triton Bloom?"

Heero and Trowa shared a look between one another. "Interesting," Trowa murmured.

"Hn."

"Catherine Bloom is my adopted sister," Trowa mused. "She's told me often enough that I remind her of a brother that died when she was younger."

"And Lowe was the man who raised me," Heero said coldly, "though I don't recall him ever giving me a legitimate name."

"That's good," Draco said offhandedly. "You really don't look like an Odin."

Harry was reluctant to agree with Malfoy's assessment, but it was true. Heero really didn't look like an Odin. Instead of mentioning that, he quickly went in search of Duo and found him soon enough. His name, oddly enough, had a second one underneath as well, though it was far more faded than Heero's and Trowa's. He'd almost made out the first name behind Duo Maxwell before Malfoy distracted him by saying loudly, "He's in the Headmaster's office."

"Hn." Heero didn't even blink before he was out of the door -presumably on his way. Trowa followed scant seconds later, leaving Harry and Malfoy alone in the sixth year Slytherin boys' dorm. From the map, Harry could see Trowa part ways from Heero at the entrance to the Slytherin common room which, strangely enough, _was_ in the dungeons.

"Does that say Keary?"

"What?" Harry asked, startled. Draco was studying the blur behind Duo's name as intently as Harry once was. The Gryffindor Golden Boy felt his face heat up when he noticed that Malfoy was so close that, one off move and they'd be cheek to cheek.

"Pay attention, Potter," Malfoy said, pointing. "Maxwell admitted himself that the name he goes by is about as real as Trelawney's Sight. I can only assume the reason his is much more blurred than Yuy and Barton's is because those two are somewhat aware of what their real names could be. Maxwell, strangely enough, just doesn't care, which is probably why it's really illegible on... this bloody wicked map." Draco sounded reluctant to admit any so-called toy of Harry's was 'wicked'.

"Probably because the name Duo gave himself means a lot more to him than his real name ever could," Harry mused thoughtfully. "Duo for his first friend, and Maxwell for his first family."

"Maybe," Draco said dully, still squinting at the name. "Keary, I think. Keary Guth... Guthric? Is that what it says?"

"I can't tell," Harry said, shaking his head. "It would make sense, though. Those are Celtic names, right? Duo has a lot about his looks that seem to trace back to the Celts."

"Hm." After a few more moments of trying to clearly make out the name, Draco gave up, grunting in annoyance as he rubbed his eyes. "The blur keeps shifting. I can't make it out. Keary, I know for sure."

"Well, Quatre and Wufei's names are real," Harry pointed out, showing Malfoy the view of Quatre's dot in the Hufflepuff Tower.

"Yeah, but we knew tha- Wait a minute... Quatre Rebarba _Malfoy_ Winner?"

Harry winced. He'd forgotten about that little detail. In his defense, however, he hadn't known the map would go as far as to show it all... He hadn't even known Malfoy was a part of Quatre's name.

----------

Duo hadn't lied to Harry. Lying just wasn't his thing. He really did go for a walk. A walk that, coincidentally enough, led him straight to the Headmaster's office in hopes of discussing something with aforementioned Headmaster. There was a small glitch that he hadn't counted on, however; the password protected gargoyle that sat in front of the entrance to the office wasn't budging.

Thanks to Harry, however, Duo was vaguely aware that Dumbledore always used the name of a candy for his password. Unfortunately, Duo hadn't had much of a chance to verse himself with miscellaneous wizarding candies.

"Chocolate Frogs, Pepper Imps, Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans, Licorice Wands..." And that was the extent of his wizarding candy knowledge. Damn it. "Chocolate covered raisins? Mars Bar? Kitkat, Twix, Lemonheads, Skittles-"

Upon 'Skittles', the gargoyle shuddered and jumped neatly out of the way. The respect Duo held for the Headmaster rose to an entirely different level. Anyone who liked Skittles enough to use it as a password couldn't possibly be that bad.(1)

_Quit stalling._

Duo was a guy on a mission. Sort of.

Once he'd ascended the winding stairs that led to the small alcove just before Dumbledore's office, he took a moment to rap his knuckle against the aging wood of the door, doubtful that Dumbledore was actually awake this early in the morning on a holiday; however, old people did strange things, and it was better knocking on the door to see if anyone was in than getting caught sneaking into the Headmaster's Office in an attempt to find student records.

He was disappointed to hear someone invite him in. He really, really wanted to see if he could get away with the sneaking bit...

"Ah, Duo," Albus Dumbledore said pleasantly from behind his cluttered desk, dressed to the nines in a pair of burnt orange robes with little green moons, a pointy purple hat propped over his snow white hair; such an outfit _had_ to have been the style on _some_ distant planet far, far away...

Then again, even if Duo thought little about the existance of extraterrestrial life, he'd like to think they had way more sense than that.

"Where in God's name do you get your robes?" Duo had to know.

"Cozy little place in France," Dumbledore said jovially. "I do believe they're a work of art myself."

_I would have guessed 'blind tailors', but then again, 'French tailors' wouldn't be far off, either..._ "They're a work of... something," Duo said vaguely, resisting the urge to shy away screaming, "My eyes! They _burn_!"

"Have a seat, Duo. To what do I owe this early morning visit?"

Duo sat casually. "Oh, well, I've decided I like this gift-giving business so much that I'm going to be having my birthday party in July, and I wanted to know if you'd be busy on the twenty-fifth. Or, y'know, whenever, because my birthday isn't exactly on a set date, and that got me thinking that if anyone knew when my birthday actually was, it would be you. I mean, you did say information like that was in my student record."

Dumbledore considered Duo thoughtfully, and the American Gundam pilot found himself dreading what the wizen Headmaster's answer was going to be. Finally, the man said, "I had no idea that you didn't know. It never occurred to me..."

"Know what?"

"Duo," Dumbledore said, "_today_ is your birthday."

_I was afraid of that..._ "You sure? I mean, I'd much rather it be in July; who wants to buy me presents after burying themselves in a mountain of debt for Christmas?"

"I'm quite sure. January 1st, A.C. 180. You were very nearly born on December 31st -as it was, you were born a few minutes passed midnight."

"Oh. Happy birthday to me, I guess," Duo said casually. "Pity -really doesn't leave me a lot of time to convince Heero to buy me that pony I've always wanted."

"Though your statements are humorous, Duo," Dumbledore said solemnly, "and I do not doubt you intended them to be any other way but distracting, I somehow find it unlikely that you would just happen to inquire about your birthday on this specific date a coincidence, and it is even more unlikely to have anything to do with a pony."

Sharp man. "Don't worry about it. I can handle it."

"Duo-"

"I can handle it," Duo repeated with a quick grin. "I mean, my friends tend to think handling my anger issues with high grade explosives isn't very conductive, but big booms make me feel better. The closer the big boom to the source of my irritation, the better I feel."

Now Dumbledore was beginning to look a little alarmed. "Duo-"

"But since I don't have anymore explosives, I think I'll just deal with my anger issues the old fashion way." Duo stood with a flourish, sending a quick, maniacal grin toward the worried Headmaster. "Later, AB."

Duo was out of the door before Dumbledore could wage another protest.

He was surprised when he found Heero waiting for him outside of Dumbledore's office, leaning stiffly against the wall besides the gargoyle with his arms crossed over his chest in classic, "Who do I have to kill to make you happy?" mode. All Heero had to do was look at him in that frank, understanding way of his, and Duo's facade almost completely melted.

He smiled somewhat sadly at his boyfriend, feeling a tug behind his ribs when Heero uncrossed his arms only to immediately envelope him in a warm hug. It was a big step for Heero, who was never comfortable with public show of affection in the first place. "How do you always seem to know that all is not right in Duoland?" he asked, laying his head on Heero's shoulder and closing his eyes to the world.

"My Duo senses were tingling."

Duo snorted into Heero's shoulder, amused. "I can't believe you just made a pop culture pun. You _are_ getting better at this being normal stuff."

"We're ex-terrorists on the run who happen to be wizards taking refuge in a school where classes teach us to hone that ability," Heero pointed out logically. "What's normal about that?"

"Point." Duo sighed, turning his face and laying his cheek on Heero's shoulder as he stared sightlessly at one of Hogwarts' many moving paintings; this one happened to display a battle scene between warring centaurs, focused predominantly on the front-line offense, bow strings pulled taunt and arrows whizzing through the air. Duo thought it was ironic that, even in art, he couldn't escape war.

It was then that Duo was struck with a thought. Oh, what a wicked thought it was. Soon the thought turned into a plan, and suddenly, Duo was much, much happier. "It would make me really happy if you could do me a favor, Hee-chan..."

"I'm listening."

Duo grinned, pressing his lips against Heero's cheek laughingly as he gently broke out of the comfort of Heero's arms. "Find me something flammable."

"Flammable." Though deadpan, the one word contained a single hint of a question to it.

"You'll see."

----------

There was privacy, and then there was being a good friend. Most people could not seem to find a middle-ground between the two, especially when it came to acting out on the friend part while still not treading all over privacy.

Trowa Barton was the type of guy who knew how to differentiate between a situation that required tact, and one that required the comfort of the whole. He made it his business to know these things. It was his nature to study people and note their reactions to individual stimuli. It was this same habit of studying a human being's persona that made him such an expert in infiltration, in fact; if he could find something useful that pleased his enemy and somehow recreate the process in his favor, he would then successfully endure himself to that enemy, therefore allowing him to pass through that same enemy's internal alarm.

Humans, down to the basic element, were nothing but animals. Besides opposable thumbs, a higher brain function (for the average human, anyway), and morals, humans were just another lethal animal that topped the food chain. And Trowa knew animals quite well.

What upset an individual of the pack affected the pack as a whole. And so, with this in mind, he thought it necessary to inform Quatre and Wufei of what had happened. A decision would be reached on what was to be done to alleviate the frustration of the individual in order to alleviate the tension of the pack.

Trowa loved Quatre -there wasn't a doubt about that. What made Quatre special was that, while somehow still possessing the demeanor of a submissive, he was still distinctly alpha; even more so than Wufei and Heero. Quatre's presence alone demanded deference, all the while still maintaining a calm, soothing conduct that, more often than not, led people into a sense of security, whether false or otherwise. Quatre was clearly the leader of the pack, whereas everyone else happened to be the protectors. If push came to shove, he would admit that their pack was slowly opening up to outside individuals like Harry and, in some way, Draco; and Trowa could see that Quatre and Duo would appreciate if the pack's size grew to further embrace maybe even Ron, Hermione, and Wufei's friend Mandy, as well, though Trowa couldn't see how that would work out with Ron and Draco's constant battle for dominance.(2)

The three of them were currently huddled together outside, truly solitary in a castle in which the walls literally had ears. Trowa wouldn't have been surprised if the paintings were how Dumbledore kept up with all of the new developments and gossip throughout Hogwarts itself; it would certainly explain his all-knowing appearance.

That's what he would have done, anyway.

"Maxwell's not an idiot," Wufei said solemnly when Trowa brought Duo's trouble to the rest of the pack's attention. "He'll find a way to feel better in the end, and it'll probably involve something violent -mark my word."

"That still doesn't give us an idea on what to do about this person sending Duo a gift that affected him in such a way, though," Quatre pointed out. "Duo will find a way to seek justification, true -but, in the long run, there are several questions we still haven't answered. Will this become a problem? Will we ever find out who sent the gift and why? And what connection does this mysterious gift-sender have with Duo to even assume today is his birthday?"

"I have a feeling we'll be finding out eventually," Trowa said quietly, "though I'm not sure it'll be daisies and sunshine in the end."

"Potter said it disturbed Maxwell, didn't he?" Wufei mused. "It's hard to believe -Maxwell hardly lets anything effect him on a personal level. I wonder what the gift is to get this kind of reaction out of him?"

"Harry wasn't too forthcoming," Trowa said. "He doesn't like to step on his friends' toes, which is probably why he told Heero as much as he did while still saying very little."

Quatre was about to say something more on the matter, but he stopped suddenly and held up a hand to quiet Trowa and Wufei. Almost immediately the doors to the school swung open, and the familiar form of the braided American pilot danced out with a bulky black box under one arm, what appeared to be a long bow wrapped around his shoulder, and an arrow clenched between his teeth. He was followed by Heero and, curiously enough, the boys had managed to pick up Harry and Draco along the way.

"Hi, guys," Duo chirped cheerfully around the arrow in his mouth. "Let's go bake a cake!"

"Cake?" Wufei said lowly, his eyebrow raising slightly in bemusement.

"Yeah! It's my birthday. I can't believe you forgot!"

_He seems to be in good spirits_, Trowa noted thoughtfully. _Still a little resentful, but otherwise content._

Trowa knew what that meant. Duo had found a suitable outlet for his frustration. This could be either good or bad; good because once Duo found a solution to extract petty revenge, he almost always went back to his "life is normal" routine. It could have been bad because the last time Duo had decided to let it all out, OZ's mobile suits had peanut butter spread into the knee joints of almost every mobile suit except for the damaged ones; large purchases of peanut butter, they soon found out, could narrow down a safe house's location rather quickly.

"Ah!" Duo said, facing the lake with a big smile on his face. "Perfect. Hee-chan, hold this." The bow and arrow exchanged hands, and Duo bent down to place the box on the ground.

"What's he doing?" Quatre asked quietly.

Harry shrugged uncertainly. "He said something about candles and marshmallows."

Sure enough, out of the box came marshmallows and, strangely enough, a teddy bear. Duo displayed the stuffed animal with a wide grin on his face. "Cute, isn't it? Too bad someone didn't do his research -I'm seventeen today. It's hardly my first birthday."

Wufei frowned at the stuffed animal. "'Baby's First Birthday'? That's..."

"Peculiar," Quatre finished quietly. "I can see why it would cause worry, though, especially when you didn't know today is your birthday." He glanced at Trowa meaningfully, and Trowa knew exactly what Quatre was thinking. A gift like that implied long-term knowledge about Duo.

"Yeah," Duo said casually. "It really bothered me, especially since whoever sent me this gift also gave me something for Christmas that I'd originally assumed was Heero trying to be coy. But I like that gift, so I'm keeping it. This one, though -well, the sender wasn't polite enough to send a receipt, so I guess I'm stuck with it, ne? Hee-chan, the kerosine, please."

Uh-oh. Flammable liquid in Duo's possession.

"Kerosine?" Harry said faintly, fascinated as Duo proceeded to douse the teddy bear in kerosine. The braided boy hummed cheerfully as he set the bear aside, taking the silently offered bow and arrow from Heero and pouring a little kerosine over the clothed tip of the weapon, as well.

"Right," Duo said cheerfully. "Somebody light me."

Trowa, eyebrows raised, cast a small Incendio on the tip of the arrow, watching the flame lick at the tip. Heero picked up the stuffed animal, careful to avoid any excess liquid as Duo readied the bow and arrow.

"Pull!" Duo shouted gaily, and the teddy bear went sailing through the air. The bow string grew taunt and with a quick thwack, Duo released the flaming arrow, hitting his mark dead on. The stuffed bear almost exploded into flames and dropped limply to the ground; even the snow didn't seem to stop the flames from burning.

Duo cheered, putting the bow down and conjuring sticks that he cheerfully decorated with large fluffy marshmallows before passing them out. "Marshmallow roast for all! Happy birthday to me!"

Somehow he rallied even Draco to the flaming present, and they were all casually roasting marshmallows over the corpse of the bear.

"Satisfied now?" Wufei asked, a faint tone of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, yeah," Duo mumbled around the gooey marshmallow he was busy gnawing on. "The school's water pipes are saved from me once again after the cherry bomb episode."

"I knew that was you!" Harry exclaimed, laughing. "Let me guess -you roped Ron into helping, didn't you? He acted guilty enough..."

"Chaos, ol' boy," Duo said. "It's what I crave."

_**END CHAPTER SIXTEEN**_

* * *

(**1) I seem to have Skittles on the brain these days; probably because they're my favoritest candy in the whole world, and I haven't had them in a year because the sugar content alone might put me into a coma. Damn my metabolism for not being able to handle sugar... :_eyes her Diet Coke in disgust_:**

**As an offshot, I can completely understand Dumbledore's dislike for every-flavored beans. I, too, have been afforded the agonizing experience of biting into a vomit flavored bean by mistake. (Well, it was more like, "Vomit flavored? Pfft! It can't really taste like vomit!") Unfortunately, it really _does_ taste like vomit. (Though I did have a lot of fun picking out all of the bad ones and giving them to my classmates. Heheheheh... Ah, to hear Steven gag emphatically and say, "Ugh, it tastes like DIRT!" One of my fondest high school memories...)**

**(2) I'm going to try to explain what I perceive as Trowa's POV as simply as possible -the guy loves animals. Somehow I think he identifies with them on a deeper level, and he applies what he knows of animals to humans, who _are_ animals with opposable thumbs, higher brain functions, and the capacity to decide right from wrong on the principle of morals. We share a lot of our baser instincts with animals still -survival, finding food, etc. Some of us even go as far as to prove dominance over others, while others are perfectly content with being submissive. Ergo, the world is Trowa's jungle. (Running-loose pointed out that I haven't done anything with Trowa's 'voice', and I thought that was unfair to Trowa. This is my attempt to find his voice. I rather like it -it's very unique. However, you may not like it, so please; input would be appreciated on this point.)**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Seventeen**_

A successfully Yule time holiday for a Weasley is rightly defined as thus: no one smuggled in baby dragons, no one brought any strange devices that the patron of the Weasley family could declare "muggle" in any way, and no one found themselves semi-permanently transformed due to a prank gone horribly, horribly wrong, there and of itself, leading to a successful winter break.

Ronald Bilius Weasley could rightly say that he had a relatively peaceful holiday save for, oddly enough, a gift from one Duo Maxwell (who had heard of Arthur Weasley's strange fascination for all things muggles from his youngest son) to the patron of the Weasley brood. It was something called 'Tetris', though Ron hadn't had a chance to find out what a tetris was; Molly Weasley had a hard enough time trying to pry that odd muggle thing from her husband after the man realized the purpose of such a game. The youngest son had made a note to himself to ask Duo what this Tetris stuff was all about, but he soon forgot upon his initial arrival back at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter, Ron's best friend since first year, was in the company of Draco Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret... with no amount of bloodshed in sight. True, the two seemed to be in a heated debate about something, but still...

Upon the sight of a Slytherin -_that_ Slytherin!- sitting in the common room as if he belonged there forced Ron to immediately search for the Four Horsemen of the Apacolypse (which is actually a wizard legend). He expected to see at least three Horsemen arrive over the horizon any moment with a note from Famine informing everyone that he was going to be late because he had to stop for a beef bowl (1).

"That doesn't change the fact that it's morally wrong to simply take someone else's stuff, Malfoy," Harry was saying irritably.

"Morals! Hah!" Malfoy retorted. "I don't know the meaning of the word. If someone doesn't want something to get stolen, they shouldn't leave it out in the open. And yes, Potter, I _do_ classify leaving one's trunk unlocked and unwarded 'out in the open'!"

"You're impossible!"

"You're insipid, but you don't see me complaining about that."

"You just did," Duo Maxwell pointed out in amusement; the American wizard's gaze had been ping-ponging between the participants of the debate since Ron (alongside his fellow gobsmacked Gryffindors, for that matter) had unknowingly walked in on something they never thought they'd see -or wanted to see, for that matter- in their very own common room.

_Maxwell_. Of course. Ron probably would have yelled at him for rocking the very foundation of Gryffindor life if it weren't for the fact he seemed to be curled very, er, _intimately_ around one Heero Yuy, who was another, more common sight to behold in Gryffindor territory. Heero was just _scary_, and Ron wasn't about to risk his neck to yell at someone who appeared to be in any sort of relationship with the guy. Well, not while Heero was in hearing range, anyway.

"Bloody hell," Seamus muttered dazedly. Four heads turned toward the entrance to Gryffindor Tower simultaneously.

"Hey!" Duo said cheerfully. "Welcome back! You guys have a good holiday?"

"We've been invaded," Seamus went on to mutter, not even acknowledging that Duo had spoken.

"By pod people," Dean added helpfully, though Ron didn't quite know what 'pod people' were; he suspected he'd agree with Dean if he knew.

"What?" Harry said, appearing and sounding honestly befuddled by his housemates' gawking.

"Oh, no," Seamus said dramatically, falling to his knees and clutching his head in horror, "they've assimilated Harry!"

"Don't be so childish," Hermione said waspishly, which was a mood that had permanently been in place since Ron had met up with her on Platform 9 3/4. Ron sincerely hoped the flobberworm that had found its way up her bum found its way back out again before it suffocated from sheer anal retentiveness.

"And you sleep in the same room with these people?" Malfoy asked Duo haughtily, smirking all the while. "I'm surprised you're not even more stranger than I already think you are."

"You're strange," Duo retorted good-naturedly, "and at least I'm still pretty in the morning."

"I'll always be prettier," Malfoy replied with a toss of his stupid head.

Ron would have cried if he were a lesser man. A Malfoy! In the Gryffindor Tower! Godric Gryffindor himself would be rolling in his grave! Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, however, couldn't be happier, being long-time secret members of Malfoy's own fan club. ("His hair! His eyes! Oh, if only he had a more pleasant attitude!" bemoaned the members frequently.)

Hermione approached the mixture of Slytherins and Gryffindors (the horror!) with a sense of determination, completely ignoring the presence of one Draco Malfoy as she seemed particularly fixated on Harry. "How was your Yule break, Harry?"

"It was okay," Harry replied offhandedly. "Quiet as far as life at Hogwarts goes." Which probably didn't really say much in reality, as Harry rarely went a year without _something_ going on in the background.

"That's nice," Hermione said vaguely, her gaze going over Duo and Heero before she eyed Malfoy wearily. "Malfoy."

Malfoy replied with a jaunty, mocking return of, "Granger." Despite what it sounded like, Ron was sure there must have been an insult in that word somewhere.

Hermione brushed him off quickly enough, raising an eyebrow toward Duo and Yuy's intimate state. "You two look... close."

Duo grinned saucily. "Aw, Hermione, you can have a snuggle bunny too; it's perfectly okay! You just can't have my snuggle bunny. I'm selfish. Find your own."

Ron blinked. "Snuggle-bunny?" he mouthed incredulously at Harry. The Gryffindor Golden Boy rolled his eyes and grinned at his redheaded friend.

Hermione seemed unphased. "I read that men generally aren't comfortable with intimate touching unless it eventually leads to intercourse," she said evenly. "Cuddling is either a manner in which a man gets what he wants, or a sign of insecurity."

"You read too much," Duo said lightly, the smile never leaving his face. Ron noticed that the American boy had easily shifted away from his previous position from Yuy, whose Prussian blue eyes, for once, didn't display flat hostility, but suddenly thoughtfulness.

"So I've been told," Hermione said before turning back to Harry. "I'm going to the library. I'll see you at dinner, Harry. Ron."

"But we just got back," Ron protested feebly as the girl disappeared through the portrait entrance. "Spirits! That girl and her books..."

"I told you I wasn't exaggerating," Harry informed Malfoy smartly. "Hermione really does live in the library."

"I never said you weren't exaggerating," Malfoy retorted cattily, "I just said that it was stupid to devote all of one's time to the library. Granger clearly needs either a hobby or a boyfriend. Girlfriend, if she's so inclined. Hey, Weasley -you're slacking off. I expected the bookworm to have you on a leash months ago."

Ron bristled, hard-pressed to keep the flush from enveloping his face. "Shut up, Malfoy."

But the ferret just wouldn't shut up. "Just snog the girl! C'mon, she's gagging for it! That's how it works with you Gryffindors, right? You snog, you get married, you have a score of redheaded weasel-like offspring -hey, what do you get when you cross a beaver with a weasel, anyway?"

Ron was this close to jumping Malfoy when Harry's calm retort stopped him. "I don't know, Malfoy -what do you get when you cross a ferret and a bulldog?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Touche, Potter. I do _not_ look like a ferret. And Pansy happens to be a very nice girl."

"Meanwhile, Ron looks in no way like a weasel, and Hermione isn't a beaver," Harry replied. "Square?"

"Whatever."

Somehow the exchange left Ron feeling a little disappointed. Where was the bloodshed? His inner Gryffindor called for controversy! This suddenly getting along with all Slytherins bit just wasn't _on_.

----------

Hermione felt vaguely irritated.

There was something going on with Duo Maxwell and his friends -all of whom are suddenly wizards who were never called themselves. Not surprisingly, she devoted most of her weekend to the Hogwarts Library to sort everything out. As usual, the library held at least some clues to the questions she had.

She went over the evidence in her mind. She'd read the newspaper with the newcomers' picture, over and over until the article was practically ingrained into her memory. There was very little said, despite it being front page news. Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Rebarba Winner, and Chang Wufei were wanted by Preventers, a newly established Earth Sphere-wide prevention agency formed to protect against terrorist acts. Even Vice-Minister Dorlian, former Queen of the World Relena Peacecraft, made a public announcement for the five suspected terrorists to turn themselves in for questioning peacefully, though she clearly stated that it was in hope that their cooperation would appeal to the government. Lady Une promised they would not be harmed while under their custody, and everyone from the President of the Earth Sphere Alliance to traffic police were fairly demanding that the five suspected terrorists turn themselves in "before things get out of hand."

Terrorists... in Hogwarts? How could Dumbledore even go along with something so dangerous! What if the five of them had been hired by the Dark Lord to take over the school, or kidnap Harry, or... or any other nefarious plot?

They didn't act normal, either. Perhaps Trowa Barton and Duo Maxwell, and maybe even Quatre Winner, but that would only go so far. Duo, always cheerful and vibrant and alive... it was a rare sight to see the boy unguarded, but Hermione had seen him in that state several times. The dark emotions lingering behind those amethyst orbs made her shiver with uncertainty. Sometimes his eyes darkened with anger or resentment, glittering almost malevolently in the firelight of the common room or some random hallway. Sometimes those noticeable violet eyes would dim and dull with sadness or disparity or lifelessness.

She'd yet to see hate in his eyes. She had a feeling she would rue the day that ever happened. Duo was someone who didn't just feel -he felt _passionately_, with every fiber of his being.

Quatre was almost a different matter. Polite, genteel, eager to please and susceptible to other's emotions. Quatre was like the naive little brother that made one want to immediately protect him, shield him from the evils of the world... but sometimes, Quatre had a sort of disposition that screamed 'I've done things far worse than anyone else in this world, and if it were necessary, I would do it again'.

Once Quatre witnessed someone shove a little first year down, calling her a mudblood. Quatre was shocked and hurt and sad... but something almost maniacal flashed behind those teal orbs, and gone was the innocent little brother, in his place a man with murder in his eyes. Then he snatched that side of him back and hid him once again; instead of going after the abuser as Ron or Harry would have done, he knelt and helped the crying little first year gather her things, murmuring sweet words to comfort her.

Trowa Barton was a mystery. Quiet, reserved, and prone to glaring at anyone who even looked at his best friend Quatre funny. Trowa rarely said or did anything that drew attention to himself. Largely he went ignored; but when Trowa did say something, most would find themselves paying complete attention to him. When Trowa said something, it tended to be thoughtful and riddled with wisdom. He was possible the least Slytherin attitude-wise, and when he was seen in the Gryffindor common room, no one made any protests.

Once Duo was practicing his summoning spell with a wicked dagger he vaguely explained as a present from someone he used to know. He was having a hard time of it, and seemed to focus a sort of single-minded obsession with getting the spell down. So focused on his task that he was completely surprised when Ron and Seamus deck of cards started popping so suddenly. The dagger sailed through the air, thunking sharply against the wall... hardly a few centimeters away from Trowa's ear.

Trowa didn't even flinch. No reaction, not even a sign that he'd noticed the dagger at all. The entire common room was staring at him, wide eyed and breathless. After a moment, he reached over his shoulder and easily plucked the dagger from the wall, flipping it end over end casually before sending it whistling through the air back toward Duo.

The dagger thunked once more into the wall, centimeters away from his cheek. The boy grinned wildly and chuckled, saying, "Thanks, man."

"No problem," Trowa said softly before turning his gaze back to the crackling fire.

The exchange had been more than a little unnerving.

Wufei Chang (though the Chinese boy clearly preferred to keep with his culture and introduce himself with his surname first) was a complete enigma. Ravenclaw and usually seen in the company of at least a few of the new students, he spent about as much, if not more, time in the library as Hermione did. Chang appeared to be the loner of the group, preferring the company of books instead of his friends. Hermione wouldn't have worried about him as much... if not for the fact she could swear he was sneaking out books from the Restricted Section frequently. It was only several evenings ago that she was coming out of the library near closing, only to pass him in the corridor, a familiar potions text hidden between several apparently harmless books.

The last time she had checked, _Most Potente Potions _had a permanent spot reserved in the Restricted Section, and it was not accessible to any students as far as she was aware.

And then there was Heero Yuy, the second newest Slytherin that was somehow unlike the rest. His gaze was something to shy away from, for Heero always seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of everything from his choice of breakfast to answering a question when called on for class. His speech was rather... deadened, with no emotional connotations attached, though he spoke rather matter-of-fact. The things he said largely went unchallenged, even if someone didn't agree with him. That stemmed from an incident in the Great Hall, when the earnest Colin Creevey had sneaked up on the boy and snapped a photo.

The reaction was instantaneous. Yuy rounded on the boy, pointing not a wand like most wizards were want to do, but an honest-to-goodness gun -something illegal in Muggle England. Hermione was sure things were to end in disaster, if not for Duo suddenly making an appearance, cheerfully burbling about how his Slytherin friend was so jumpy, always carrying around a paint ball gun to scare folks, now, see, Colin, it wasn't a good idea to take a photo without permission first. With an irritated glance at Duo, Yuy holstered his so-called paint gun... but not before he subtly switched the weapon to safety -things paint ball guns simply did _not_ require.

Hermione needed to know what purpose it served to have five no doubt dangerous criminals at Hogwarts. She decided to start with the source -Duo Maxwell himself. With small abuse to her prefect privileges, she managed to accost a copy of Duo Maxwell's records... only to find them suspiciously _empty_ of information a normal student would have. Duo Maxwell had no birth record, nor any mention of parents other than a small blurb mentioning that his mother was a pureblood witch, and his father was halfblood, yet oddly enough, Duo himself was listed under the status of pureblood despite his sire. His progress in extra studies was phenomenal, and his grades were meticulous despite his tendency to forgo studying. What was more was that Duo Maxwell was under the close scrutiny of all of Hogwarts professors, and it was stated quite clearly in his file that should Duo show a tendency to lean toward Darker learning, a prefect, Head Boy, or Head Girl was to go to the Headmaster himself immediately.

Trowa Barton and Heero Yuy's records were no better; in fact, they were less informative than Duo's had been. Neither had any listed relatives aside from an adopted sister of Trowa's, a professional knife thrower in the circus. In fact, Trowa's former occupation happened to be a clown -which boggled Hermione's mind, as the boy didn't seem to be the type. Heero's file was even less fulfilling -it seemed to warn the reader to be cautious of Heero's moods, for he tended to react negatively towards surprises and comments that could be interpreted as threats. Both were tentatively listed as muggleborn.

Quatre Winner's file was actually a well of information. Just as Hermione had thought, Quatre was the only heir of Rebarba Winner of Winner Enterprises, and the last child of thirty children; twenty-nine of which were all female, and none of them showed a talent for magic at all. There was a small mention that it could have something to do with Quatre's sisters being test tube babies, not born naturally as Quatre himself had been. His mother, surprisingly, was Quatrine Malfoy Winner, a pureblood witch who had renounced her family early on in the first rise of He Who Must Not Be Named. She promptly married Rebarba Winner, a muggle man. He was halfblood, and a Malfoy relation to boot.

Chang Wufei was the last of the proud Dragon Clan of L5, a Colony that had self-destructed in the face of falling to the OZ Alliance one year ago. Despite his origins, he _was_ a distant relation to Cho Chang and her family line, who were all pureblood. It was assumed that Wufei's line had given up on the concept of magic long before Wufei was born, so while it would seem he was muggleborn, he was tentatively listed as a halfblood.

_No prior school records, no medical documentation -even Ron's file mentions he's allergic to shellfish (2),_ Hermione thought to herself with a mental scowl as she shoved the files back into the cabinet. _Duo's parents could have attended a different school -but they aren't even named! What could Dumbledore possibly be up to? And why has Hogwarts all of a sudden become a host to criminals? Why has the Earth Sphere Alliance suddenly declared them criminals, anyway? All war crimes and warrants were annulled and became void after the Eve War!_

There were too many questions and not enough answers.

Okay. She went to her scroll containing her hurriedly scratched notes and read over them carefully.

**1. Something is going on.**

**2. Mx GP; possible his friends are too.**

**2. HP knows something, but he isn't telling.**

**3. DM probably has a clue, but he's suspiciously tight-lipped, as well.**

**4. W has M connections, but possibility of being in league with the family is doubtful. W is ½, therefore, beneath the M family's notice.**

She stopped there and hesitantly added as a side note, **DM appears to sometimes appreciate W's company. DM unaware?**

**5. All may be ter.**

**6. AD is in on it, some profs appear to know; possible plan?**

**7. Mx PB, but parentage M - PB, F - ½; Y and B possible MB, W and C ½.**

**Queries:**

**A. Why are all wanted?**

**B. What connection is there between Mx and HP?**

**C. What leverage could Mx hold over HP to keep secrets from friends?**

**D. What is DM's involvement?**

**Current Conclusion: More data necessary.**

Hermione was bound and determined to figure this out, whether Harry helped her or not.

----------

Unbeknownst to Hermione, the curious Gryffindor prefect was being closely monitored. And Chang Wufei did not like the implication that some upstart know-it-all woman was sticking her nose in just the place where it didn't belong.

He, of course, informed his fellow ex-Gundam pilots of the matter. "She's been hanging around the library a lot. I happened to ask Flitwick for an example of privledges a prefect had that other students didn't. The list is surprisingly long, and one happens to be access to student records."

Duo nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I've been feeling a little of the Granger cold shoulder, as well. I wouldn't be surprised if Hermione's figured something out. I fingered her a trouble spot since I met her."

"Do you think she knows something?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she expected something," Duo replied to Trowa's quiet inquiry. "In any case, we shouldn't act any differently around her. If she finds out, she finds out. Hopefully she'll use her good sense and confront one of us before she goes off spouting all of our secrets to the general populace."

"Hn," Heero grunted gruffly, probably liking the idea of someone poking around in his business least of all the pilots.

"Relax, Hee-chan," Duo said cheerfully. "Harry has some idea to my past, and Dragon Boy knows something nefarious happened. She'll go to Harry and Ron before anyone else, and Harry would probably convince her that we're not bad people. We just have to sit it out. No worries."

"I'm sure she means well," Quatre said softly, "but it really doesn't give her an excuse to pry, Duo, and you feel the same way we all do about that. We have a future to look forward to now; our pasts may not be spectacular by some standards, but people who've never experienced true war could never understand what soldiers like us fought for."

Duo sighed, smiling softly when he felt the weight of Heero's grip on the end of his braid. "I know, Quat, but showing her that it bothers us will just make her dig deeper. All we can do is hope she'll listen to the sermon before she cooks the missionary."

Wufei snorted wryly. "Only you, Maxwell."

The American boy grinned. "I try, Wubear!"

"Wu_fei_."

"You always say that, and yet, it never helps," the Gryffindor laughed. "Give it up, man -I'll never stop!"

Bloody Maxwell...

_**END CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**_

* * *

**(1) This lovely imagery, I'm sorry to say, did not come from my own creation. I read it somewhere years ago, and I've forgotten the source.**

**(2) Hermione _would_ be the kind of person who would go looking through someone's medical file just because she could, especially with her nifty prefect status. :tisks: How unethical.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Eighteen**_

The month that passed was gloriously mundane... to most people. For people like Heero Yuy, however... Well, it was an effort just to get through the day without injuring someone. He found that most of his urges to rip, maim, and render impotent consisted of Duo's ass and someone's wandering eyes. Duo, of course, was amused by Heero's sudden flares of jealousy and frequently referred to his sometimes volatile temper as 'cute'. Heero didn't really see the appeal in the loss of control when it came to his jealousy, though, as he'd always maintained a firm grasp over his emotions since before he could remember.

When the beginning of February came upon the students and staff of Hogwarts, Heero Yuy found himself fretting. Fretting. The word itself put a sour taste in his mouth. Heero didn't 'fret' -by all rights, the word hadn't even been in his dictionary until now. The Japanese boy had difficulty placing that sudden clenching in his stomach and the sudden need to somehow alleviate the almost dizzying lightheaded feeling that came about so suddenly, almost for no apparent reason. 'Fretting' seemed like a fitting word... but he still didn't like it.

Then came the day Heero had been fretting about. February 14th. He almost wished it was a day like any other day, but if the white, pink, and red decorations and cut-out hearts and the love struck expression on all of those sappy girls' faces didn't give him a clue, the large banner that declared a happy Valentine's Day did.

"Valentine's Day," Draco Malfoy had said in quiet disgust, "the bane of all male Slytherins existence."

Heero's only reply? "Real hearts aren't really shaped like that."

"And how did I know you were going to say something like that?" Draco murmured sardonically, peering into his coffee cup as if he was looking in the very face of his chosen deity.

"I've never thought of it that way," Trowa said lightly, buttering his toast casually after pushing away a small bundle of Valentines from silly girls with crushes. "Hearts look like a knot of muscle, really -that's all they are."

"Perhaps, but it would be disturbing to see bleeding red beating hearts hanging from the ceilings, wouldn't it?" Draco replied simply, savoring coffee as if it were ambrosia.

Before the conversation could go any further, a commotion stirred up across the hall, spurring everyone to stop and look over. Harry Potter, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his arms and a befuddled and horrified expression on flushed face, stared on in terror as one of his Valentines leapt off the table and dispersed in a shower of confetti, a beautiful script spelling out words that came from the voice of undeterminable sex that sang out a simple rhyme.

"_Your friends are annoying_

_And some of them are gay_

_So let's just shag_

_And call it a day._

_It'll be fun, at the very least_

_So take me, you sexy speccy beast!"_

And then the words seem to shatter into glitter that covered every surface and clung to everyone's skin.

The Slytherins, of course, were howling with laughter.

"Genius!" Blaise Zabini cried. "Who thought of it?"

Trowa and Heero looked at each other before, as one, they glanced at Draco. The Malfoy heir hid an amused smile behind the rim of his coffee cup, raising a single eyebrow at the knowing faces in front of him.

Trowa smirked. "So what are you and Duo doing for Valentine's Day, Heero?"

Damn. There was that stupid clenching feeling in his stomach again.

It wasn't as if Heero hadn't been thinking about it. Valentine's Day _was_ the reason he started fretting in the first place. The problem wasn't in the day itself in as much as there really wasn't a set guideline for such a practice. He could have gone the easy route and taken Wufei's suggestion with chocolate and flowers, but he felt that Duo really deserved something a little more than that. Perfection was almost like Heero's middle name, and there were so many things that could go horribly wrong if he planned out the wrong thing.

It was... aggravating, mostly.

Both Draco and Trowa were smirking at him. "You haven't a clue what you're going to do."

Heero decided he should do something potentially lethal to the Malfoy heir. The boy didn't seem properly cowed by his glares anymore. In fact, Draco seemed more amused by his task in _naming_ his glares than frightened by the actual look itself.

"Better think quick," Trowa said calmly, "because here Duo comes now."

_Damn_. Almost reluctantly, Heero looked toward his approaching boyfriend with his confident, schooled features perfectly in place... but the glitter that had clung to Duo's hair, skin, and clothing distracted him for a moment, and the sight alone spurred Heero to do something he'd never done before.

He blurted out, "You look like a fairy." He mentally winced, thanking whatever deity deemed itself worthy of paying attention to him that he sounded a lot more calm than he felt. And damn Malfoy and Barton for snickering at him. Damn them both.

Duo laughed gaily. "Wonderful, love -now I literally match the figurative sense of the word. Budge over, Blaise." The boy obediently did so without argument and with little more than a roll of his eyes as Duo squeezed himself in the space available, almost gluing himself to Heero's arm.

"So," Duo said cheerfully, "I was thinking a quixotic walk around Hogsmeade that includes a visit to the local candy shop and rounds off with a quiet dinner at the Three Broomsticks would be awesome. That okay with you, Hee-chan?"

Heero was stunned. (On the inside, of course.) With a brief glance at the charmed ceiling, he thought to himself, _You really do exist. Where the hell have You _been Not only was it something Duo wanted to do, it would give Heero a chance to gauge his boyfriend's reaction to certain trinkets that Heero could buy for him on the sly. "Perfect.(1) When?"

"After lunch?"

"Of course," Heero said.

"Great!" Duo cheered, planting his lips on Heero's cheek before shaking his head emphatically, laughing as Heero was coated in a light sheen of silvery glitter. "Now you look like a fairy, too. See ya, Hee-chan!"

When Duo was a respectable distance away, Heero proceeded to glare evilly at any Slytherin who dared look at him funny. Not surprisingly, a great many of his fellow housemates found themselves enamored with things that were nowhere near him.

"At least one of you knows what he's doing," Draco said slyly.

As the glare didn't seem to be working due to a growing immunity, Heero decided a sharp retort would do. "Says the boy who won't even admit he has his eye set on someone who a) isn't a girl, and b) isn't a Slytherin."

That shut the blond boy up quickly enough.

Heero quickly decided that, okay, his day was looking up. Unfortunately, he forgot one simple rule of thumb that had adhered itself to his way of life. All well-laid plans sprout obstacles eventually.

He just didn't expect the dozy of an obstacle life decided to throw at him this time. And it would have to be on Valentine's Day. The suspicious absences of the Headmaster and the four Hogwarts Heads of House should have been the first clue.

----------

"Pay up," Harry ordered Seamus Finnigan triumphantly as soon as Duo came back to the Gryffindor Table. Grudgingly, the Irish boy handed the Gryffindor Golden Boy a handful of coins and a Chocolate Frog, causing Duo to raise his eyebrows in bemusement.

"You made bets on which of us had plans for Valentine's Day?" Duo said calmly, snickering on the inside. He reminded himself to scold Harry later for giving Seamus any hope that Heero had made anything of the sort when Harry himself knew damn well Duo had their date a la Hogsmeade all planned out. Well, scold him as he took twenty-five percent of Harry's winnings. Commission fee, of course.

"Aye," Seamus grumbled, appearing morose. "Thought for sure Yuy would have it all planned out. Forgive the terminology, but he does seem like the butch in the relationship. And it's the man's responsibility to plan these things out, eh?"

Duo sniffed. "I resent the indication that I'm any less manly than Heero Yuy. Just because I don't set my own broken leg without the benefit of any mind-numbing drugs, look like I can chew nails, and all and all appear as threatening as him does not make me any less manly than him."

Everyone just looked at Duo incredulously. Okay, so maybe Heero was _slightly_ more mannish than him, but only by a margin. It was the hair, really.

No, really.

Duo was not _girly_. Liking to cuddle did not make him _girly_; he just liked... sharing skin surface. Yeah. Sharing skin surface. That was it.

"Anyway," Duo went on hurriedly, "Hee-chan's probably the most socially inept guy on this planet when it comes to dating. I knew weeks in advance that such things should probably be left up to me."

"Then why didn't you tell him you had everything planned out?" Ron asked curiously. "I mean, Wufei told you he was having a spot of trouble deciding what to do about Valentine's Day."

"Because I like to see him squirm," Duo said gleefully. "Bwahah!" Ignoring the snorts of amusement around him, he went on casually, "No, really. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw me coming. It might have looked like he was calm and collected, but I recognize the signs. There was definite deer-caught-in-the-headlights potential there."

And somehow knowing that Heero was actually considering Valentine's Day made Duo feel all warm and gooey inside, much like the time Heero went out of his way to get him cake for Christmas because that's how his boyfriend's culture celebrated it.

Lunch time couldn't come around soon enough for the excited American Gryffindor. Valentine's Day! He'd never actually celebrated it before, but what better way to start the tradition than with the guy he loved, right?

Love. Duo had never really acknowledged the emotion before; not in the same context as romantically, at least. He had loved Sister Helen and Father Maxwell, his old street gang, and even Howard, in a distant uncle sort of way. He loved his friends, both old and new. That, however, was a different kind of love. The way he loved Heero was on a whole new unbelievable level that Duo hadn't even known he could achieve until recently. Yeah, he had a crush on Heero during the war, but, like always, war always overshadows matters of the heart in that respect. After the war, though... well, that was a hazy period spent picking up the pieces and examining what little he had left. Now he knew he didn't have so little left; friendships in abundance, a somewhat stable lifestyle, food on the table, and other social necessities proved that Duo actually had a lot more left than he first realized. It was an amazing feeling, knowing that there was something to live for instead of just living from day to day.

Being pretty confident that Heero returned his feelings was a bonus.

Duo had decided days ago that their Valentine's Day outing wasn't going to make or break their relationship. Minimal planning was a must, giving both of them plenty of opportunity to wing it when something new and interesting came along their way. Even if they didn't find something to entertain them, simply being in Heero's presence was calming enough. He didn't need romantics to know that Heero loved him, and he wasn't going to expect it, either; he knew full well that Heero wouldn't tolerate half of what Duo did if the Japanese boy didn't think Duo's actions were enduring. He fully expected the date to turn out as a success.

Nothing could ruin their day spent together.

Later, Duo would have an epiphany of epic proportions. The Universe, as a whole, did not appreciate total absolutes; nor did the Universe pander to mortal ultimatums. In fact, it was on his way to lunch, surrounded by his Gryffindor peers, that Duo had this sudden epiphany.

"'Mione, really, you should let your hair down a little and live in the moment instead of those books," Duo said, grinning at the girl's miffed expression. "I mean, books are great company when you're alone, but see us? Standing here? We like interacting with you. We think you're interesting. You're less interesting when you can't even aim the spoonful of food toward your mouth because you've lost yourself in whatever happens to be the book of the day. Entertaining, yes. Interesting, no."

"Being interesting isn't conductive to good grades, Duo."

"That's just an excuse. I bet you can rattle off Newton's Law in your sleep."

"Newton's Law gets me nowhere in the wizarding world, Duo."

"Angram's Law of Sub-Numerical Integers in Magic Theorem, then. C'mon, 'Mione, work with me here."

"Angram's _what_?" Seamus muttered before Ron could order him not to ask.

"Angram's Law supposedly proves that all numbers have an unnamed magical number called a sub-number, and these numbers consist of integers that advance what would normally be a simple number during the right ritualistic circumstances," Hermione rattled off. Everyone stopped to stare at her as Ron shook his head helplessly.

"Basically, these magical sub-numbers are what makes numbers like seven, twelve, and thirteen very powerful in arcane rituals(2)," Duo simplified, a smug grin on his face as he eyed Hermione. "Told you."

Hermione sniffed.

"How do you know this stuff?" Ron asked, aghast. "You _never_ study!"

"Of course I study," Duo said flippantly. "What, did you think I'm passing all of my classes because the teachers _like_ me? Snape would have failed me months ago if that were the case. I've been jumping on his last nerve since day zero." He just didn't need to study as much as most people, which is a fortunate gift that came from perfect recollection of everything he said, did, saw, heard, and read.

"I'm surprised Snape has a nerve to jump on left," Harry murmured sardonically.

"Ah, but if all goes according to plan, that nerve will be gone by Easter," Duo replied with a snicker.

This is the part where the Universe, as a whole, proved it was entirely vindictive against all absolutes.

"Duo?"

Duo turned at the probing voice that rang with a certain tone of familiarity and disbelief. His amethyst eyes widened almost comically at the surreal sight of three very familiar people surrounded by his current professors and Headmaster.

The girl with the wide, cornflower blue eyes and long, wheat blonde hair took an uncertain step forward. "Duo... It _is_ you!"

If someone had told him that today would be the day he would have an armful of Relena Dorlian Peacecraft, ex-Queen of the World and current Vice Foreign Minister, he probably would have laughed incredulously and ask about their medication. As it was, that is exactly what happened. Relena had thrown herself bodily into his arms, joyed upon seeing him, and Duo's arms automatically wrapped around to catch her.

"Relena?..." Duo probed vaguely, completely oblivious to Hermione's jaw dropping in shock and everyone else's complete bemusement.

Preventer Lady Une raised an enquiring eyebrow and shared a nonplused look with Zechs Marquise, aka Milliardo Peacecraft. "Well, this certainly is a surprise."

Duo couldn't agree more.

----------

In order to explain the presence of one Vice Foreign Minister and her escorts of choice, we must first backtrack to a time just after breakfast, when one Headmaster Dumbledore and his four Heads of House were waiting rather (im)patiently in his office for their muggle guests to arrive.

"Remind me again why we will be having muggles come to Hogwarts when no other muggle has done so before?" Severus asked wryly, sounding quite offended that he had to put up with this disruption in his normal schedule.

Minerva resisted the urge to shoot Severus a stern glare. Barely. "While I'm a little more enthused about this concept than some people, Albus, I must admit that Severus' question does qualify an answer. Isn't it the Minister's responsibility to interact with the Minister of the muggle world?"

Albus smiled whimsically. "Ah, but we're dealing with an authority that is much higher than the Minister, Minerva. As required by law, any minister that could potentially interact with the wizarding world is to be informed of the existence of our world, first and foremost(3). This requirement was temporarily banned during the muggles' war, but now that everything is beginning to resolve on that end, it was time for the Minister to inform the new Vice Foreign Minister of our existence. She was quite interested to hear about it, and made a request to visit our world."

"Why not Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade even?" Ponoma asked curiously. "Isn't this something the Ministry should be handling instead of us, Albus?"

"Vice Foreign Minister Dorlian was especially interested in the concept of this school not only for its fame, but for the fact that Hogwarts happens to be the closest the two worlds, normally so staunchly separated, blend," Albus explained simply, popping a lemon drop in his mouth. "She's a very intelligent, resourceful young woman, Ms. Dorlian. I had the honor to speak with her when arrangements were being made for her and her escorts diplomatic visit."

It was Severus who guessed a reason closer to the truth. "Fudge pissed her off, didn't he?"

"Immensely," Albus replied emphatically. "Our Minister has never been very congenial towards politicians of the muggle persuasion." Or anyone, really. Albus supposed she would have liked Minister Fudge a lot more if the man hadn't discouraged her to involve herself with the wizarding world when she was very clearly interested in their culture.

"I find it all very interesting myself," Filius said eagerly, his high voice squeaking in his excitement. "Imagine! Having muggles at Hogwarts for the first time since it was built is history in the making!"

Albus' eyes twinkled in amusement. "They will be arriving by Portkey any moment now, bar anything stalls them."

"How many will there be, do you think?" Ponoma asked. "Surely she won't bring many muggles with her?"

"Only those she trusts in the highest respect," Albus replied. "Her brother, who happened to be a highly decorated soldier in the recent war, and another companion who currently heads the inter-worldly police force called the Preventers. Like Aurors, really, only their domain falls mostly in preventing wide-spread terrorism and keeping manmade catastrophic events from occurring."

"Sounds absolutely daunting," Minerva mused.

"Oh, it is," Albus replied. "Why, just two weeks ago Ms. Dorlian was informing me of a situation involving weapons of mass destruction in the hands of terrorists being thwarted due to the efforts of these Preventers. It's all rather fascinating, really -these weapons have the capability of destroying entire cities."

"Fascinating?" Minerva exclaimed, agog. "Headmaster, that isn't 'fascinating' -it's very, very frightening, is what it is!"

"Only if the Dark Lord jumps on the very idea of using muggle weaponry, Minerva," Severus said dismissively. "I doubt that will be the case, since You Know Who happens to, you know, hate muggles." That, and Severus was of the belief that muggles wouldn't know how to utilize these things properly, anyway. _He_ had the unfortunate privilege of never knowing about Hiroshima, and even if he wanted to know about such things, he probably wouldn't care, anyway, keeping with his personal conviction that muggles really were helpless idiots. It was a belief almost all purebloods held, which was always the first step to underestimating a potential threat.

Any further discussion on the matter was immediately halted when people suddenly appeared in the center of the room, an innocent paperweight supported in three different hands. Severus was quick to take inventory of these muggles, even though his natural inclination was to sneer at them and wonder what became of the wizarding world when he was forced in the presence of mere muggles.

In retrospect, they were very memorable people as far as muggles go. The tallest was a young man with hair so blond it could almost be called white, and icy blue eyes that certainly implicated that he was one who relied on a lot of strategy, instinct, and intelligence. Severus had seen similar eyes in the newest students Hogwarts played host to, in fact; the expression was only minimal in Winner and Maxwell, but Severus was almost sure those two were best at hiding what they were thinking. Yuy, Barton, and Chang, however, frequently had the same disposition about them as this man.

So he was the soldier. Interesting.

The second tallest was a woman, also with long , darker blonde hair and an almost stern appearance about her that could match Minerva's disposition to the T. Surprisingly enough, she had the same look in her eyes as the man that stood beside her; in fact, judging by the body language of the two, it seemed as if the man deferred to her, giving Severus the impression that he was her subordinate in the strictest of sense.

The last figure, however, made Severus want to demand just what the Headmaster was playing at. He could see the woman as being the Vice Foreign Minister they were waiting for, but the woman simply wasn't dressed as elegantly as the... girl. A girl. A simple, teenaged girl with knowledgeable blue eyes and long, wheat blonde hair that was bound in a graceful ponytail, her posture simply screaming 'dignity'.

One was a soldier; since Severus knew this soldier was apparently male, the man had to be him. One was the head of a Auror-like organization that kept the peace, and the other was the Vice Foreign Minister. The older woman could be either, but Severus did _not_ like the implication that either the Preventer leader or the Vice Foreign Minister was about as old as one of his sixth year students.

"Ah, Ms. Dorlian," Albus said pleasantly, smiling at the youngest girl and standing to offer her a frail hand. "Right on schedule."

The girl -Dorlian- smiled politely, shaking the offered hand before her in a very dignified manner. "Headmaster, please -call me Relena."

"Only if you do me the honor of calling me Albus," the Headmaster replied with twinkling eyes.

Now, Severus didn't think very highly of muggles, despite the fact he happened to spy for the side that was adamant about muggles being people too. However, finding out that the muggles' precious Vice Foreign Minister, a position that required a lot of careful consideration when it came to peaceful interaction between the colonies and Earth, his thoughts were as thus: _This is the Vice Foreign Minister? A teenaged hormonal ticking time bomb? The muggles are _doomed.

And then he thought, _Wait, any race that would willingly elect a mere child into a position of power is like... baring one's neck to a particularly ravenous werewolf. What does this say about the Dark Lord not having them completely wiped off the face of the Earth yet? It doesn't make sense!_

If Minerva weren't similarly effected by the apparent news that the Vice Foreign Minister could have been one of her students, Severus suspected she would be laughing at him.

"Of course, Albus," the girl said. "May I introduce my brother, Milliardo Peacecraft, inactive Preventer and current head of my security; and Lady Une, the head of the Preventer organization."

"A pleasure to meet you both," Albus said warmly, bowing his head slightly. "I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. These are some of my colleagues. This charming woman is my Deputy-Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House Minerva McGonagall, who is an accomplished Animagus and Transfiguration teacher."

The man -Peacecraft, if Severus heard right- tilted his head slightly as he narrowed his eyes. "Forgive me, Headmaster, but we're not familiar with those terms."

"Oh, dear," Albus said jovially. "Forgive _me_, Mr. Peacecraft. I sometimes forget that some things we wizards deal with every day aren't so for muggles such as yourselves. Transfigurations is the art of transforming one object into something completely different. An Animagus is a person who can transform into an animal and back at will. It requires a great amount of skill."

"You flatter me, Albus," Minerva said stiffly, the unspoken _stop it_ clear in her tone.

"Of course." It was hard to say whether Albus was acknowledging her unspoken command or simply replying to her apparent comment, but Severus was betting heavily on the latter. "And this is our Head of Ravenclaw House and resident Charms professor, Filius Flitwick. Charms is where all of our students learn the art of spellcasting and the techniques used to assure a proper spell. Alongside him is our Head of Hufflepuff House and Herbology professor, Ponoma Sprout. Her duties entail teaching our students all about the care and uses of plants, both magical and muggle alike. And lastly, our Head of Slytherin House and esteemed Potions Master, Severus Snape, which I believe is much like a muggle science called chemistry, or so I've heard from some of my muggleborn students. The mixture of certain properties to create something potentially useful, and ingredients that certainly do not mix."

None of them offered a hand, all preferring to bow their heads in greeting. That was good. Albus would have been most displeased with Severus if he refused to shake their hands.

Fawkes chose that moment to trill musically, drawing the muggles attention to the familiar. "Oh, my, what a beautiful creature," the Vice Foreign Minister (Severus was still trying to wrap his brain around _that_ startling tidbit of information) said softly, stroking not only the phoenix's plumage, but his ego, as well.

"Fawkes is a very dear familiar that has been with me for a very long time," Albus informed her with twinkling eyes. "He's a phoenix, of course; rare even in the wizarding world, and legend in the muggle. You've managed to catch him on a rather fortunate day, as his Burning was only a month ago."

"Interesting," Une said thoughtfully. "How many other creatures from our myths are real, I wonder?"

"A fair few, to be sure," Flitwick said cheerfully, "and even more that have never been mentioned in muggle legend. Unicorns and centaurs rove the Forbidden Forest, and elves work quite hard in this very castle, though they aren't quite the long forgotten noble elves from your tales, Ms. Une."

"How very intriguing," Dorlian said pleasantly, turning her attention back to Albus. "I'm very eager to learn more about the wizarding world, Albus. From what I understand, we're very privileged to receive such an in-depth introduction to your society."

"There's no better place for it like Hogwarts, dear," Ponoma said warmly.

"Right you are, Ponoma," Albus said jovially, leading the muggles toward the entrance of his office. "If you will follow me, we'll begin the tour of Hogwarts now. Today is a Hogsmeade weekend -students from third year and up are allowed to visit the local all-wizarding village that is not far from here, but most won't be leaving until after lunch, from what I understand, so you will most likely see a fair few of them. I'm certain some will be very curious about the three of you, of course, especially some of the pureblood wizards and witches who've never had the honor of meeting muggles before."

If it weren't for Minerva's stern glare, Severus probably would have made some snide statement about some pureblood students not quite considering such a scenario as anything short of sheer torture. As it was, he managed to hold his tongue and allowed the Headmaster to sugar coat everything for their 'esteemed guests'.

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

The muggles were taken with _everything_, from the moving paintings, the shifting stairs, the sheer architecture and history of the school itself. For Severus, it wasn't nearly half as interesting as, say, teaching a class. The tour was almost unbearable, but the muggles were practically lapping it up, interested in everything the Headmaster had to explain about this and that and what each House stood for and how the students were Sorted. Severus was very close to simply walking away as soon as they hit the ground floor.

"This is our Entrance Hall," Albus announced gaily. "Through those doors to the right is the Great Hall, where we hold meals and meetings that involve the student body. The Great Hall is a treat in and of itself, as the ceiling is charmed to appear as the sky at any given time. It's a very conductive atmosphere for students to interact."

"May we see it?" Dorlian asked politely, glancing toward the open doors curiously. It was than that her eyes seemed to catch something, and she frowned, clearly puzzled by something.

"Of course," Albus was saying, "I was hoping, if you are hungry, we could share a meal before I continued on with the rest of the tour."

The Headmaster was distracted by an inquiry from Une, but Severus didn't stop watching Dorlian's expression go from confusion to disbelief. Her eyes were focused on a familiar and loathsome sight of a gathering of sixth year Gryffindors just outside of the Great Hall; more precisely, her eyes seemed zeroed in on a braid that swayed with the movement of the bane of Severus' existence.

"You never study!" he could hear that lout Weasley exclaim, and the loudmouth American laughed at his friend's accusation.

"Of course I study," the Gryffindor said airily. "What, did you think I'm passing all of my classes because the teachers _like_ me? Snape would have failed me months ago if that were the case. I've been jumping on his last nerve since day zero."

Severus had to admit that Maxwell's comment was very much a possibility. Too bad Minerva kept drilling words such as 'fair' and 'unbiased' into him.

"I'm surprised Snape has a nerve to jump on left," the Potter brat murmured sardonically.

"Ah, but if all goes according to plan, that nerve will be gone by Easter," Maxwell snickered. Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy's back. Somehow he knew that brat had it in for him.

All discussion between the Headmaster and Une stopped abruptly when Dorlian called out hesitantly. "Duo?"

Severus blinked. _She knows Maxwell? How unlikely is _that

Maxwell spun around, his eyes widening as his jaw dropped upon the sight of Hogwarts' muggle dignitaries.

Dorlian took a quick step forward, a wide, happy smile spreading across her face. "Duo... It _is_ you!" And then she was actually _hugging_ the little monster! Hugging him! On the upside, Maxwell looked like he couldn't have been hit any harder by a giant. The little bugger looked absolutely gobsmacked. So did that know-it-all Granger. That alone was almost worth the torture of having to follow Albus and the muggles around.

"Well," Une said delicately, "this is a surprise."

"No shit," Duo Maxwell said breathlessly, still appearing as if the universe no longer made any sense.

Severus smirked and wondered if this was that cosmic justice that Albus was always nattering about.

_**END CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**_

* * *

**(1) I love how, in looking up an alternative word for "perfect" (a word that sounded more, I dunno, HEERO, I guess) on my Prompt-As-You-Go thing, I found such words as "gross", "bloody", "sodding", and "fucking". It made me laugh. A lot.**

**(2) I made it up. Even I had to go "huh?" after reading and re-reading what I wrote. Math was never my strong point, and I suspect I'd hate Arithmancy. (The numbers 7, 12, and 13 ARE supposedly very magical numbers, coincidentally. There are a lot of references of 12 in the HP books, and the vault keeping the Sorcerer's Stone ((or the Potter Family Vault; I can't remember)) in the first HP book was 713. Seven and thirteen. 7 happens to be a number of power not only in the Bible, but to the Egyptians, as well. There's also various other combinations of the numbers used throughout the HP books. While I suck at math, I've always been quick to catch patterns in numbers. Also, numbers play a very important part in GW, as we all know.) Heh. All this talk of numbers brings me back to my algebra days, when I would look at my homework and see not the problems, but a frickin' GW orgy. No wonder I suck at math.**

**(3) True stuff. The British Minister had been informed of the existence of the wizarding world when he first entered office, though he was less than enthusiastic about it. It would stand to reason that any high-office politician would be privileged to the same thing; and it's hard to get any higher than Vice Foreign Minister, which is a position that deals with interaction between both the Earth and the individual colonies. I imagine Relena would be a little more interested in the existence of a hidden society than most people.**

**Just to get this straight -I am NOT making Relena the bad guy in this fic. While there are a lot of mixed feelings about her amongst fans, she IS and always will be a very competent person, despite personal feelings. She has a lot of potential to be a very good character, and I plan to exploit that. I will admit I tend to get irritated with her a lot, although I can't say I outright hate her anymore. A good writer, I imagine, should be able to focus more on the positive aspects of the character that receives mixed feelings and embellish on that. Relena is a GOOD Vice Foreign Minister. She has good common sense when it comes to politics, and... most of the time when it comes to personal matters. And she's a character that happens to grow throughout the series. You can't really say that about a lot of the GW crew. So, yeah, Relena's not a bad person in this fic. A little clueless about certain situations that have yet to arise, but she's a good person here.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Nineteen**_

Despite what many believed, Duo wasn't too fond of surprises. He liked them in moderation during the most appropriate times -Christmas, anniversaries, celebrations, and birthdays were the perfect time to spring surprises, when they were at least somewhat expected. Otherwise, he didn't really deal with surprises very well.

As the group of officials before him were just as surprised as he was, he wouldn't hold it against them, though. That was just bad manners. Instead, he took a moment to recover from this slight cardiac arrest and pasted a happy-go-lucky smile back where it belonged.

Dumbledore, in all his eccentric glory, cheerfully said, "Oh, you've met?"

"Yeah. Talk about coincidences, huh?" Duo said, trying to make light of the situation. While he outwardly projected a pleasant, teasing demeanor, internally, he was planning the quickest escape routes and how congenial Lady Une and Zechs were appearing today. (Relena wasn't really a worry; she was all for the Gundam pilots' further freedom.) Judging by their expressions, chances of getting away were in his favor.

"I've been so worried!" Relena said with a sniff, reluctantly pulling away. "You disappeared so suddenly, and the others were so worried about you that they even asked for my help in locating you. And then... well, with the political situation and everything... the others just vanished as well. I didn't know _what_ to think."

Political situation. Right. Duo could always look to Relena to mince words. It was appreciated at this juncture -it wouldn't do to have him outed as a wanted man with so many witnesses. "Well, you know -secret wizarding society. Which, apparently, isn't so secret. Unless the three of you have mysteriously become magical as well; in that case, fate played a really mean prank on us all." Then again, Duo wouldn't really put it passed the great cosmic being that controlled fate to pull something like this.

"Of course not, Duo," Une said with a strangely conspiring gleam in her eye. "This is simply a diplomatic mission between a select few delegates from the Earth Sphere Alliance and a society that lays outside of the boundaries of our law."

Outside the boundaries...

If Duo weren't in a happy relationship, he would probably kiss Une. Being that the wizarding world didn't exactly adhere to the laws of the United Nations because they, simply put, had no representation within the Alliance itself, therefore, existed _outside_ of the UN as a whole, Une and Zechs had no jurisdiction over a wizard or witch. And Duo was a wizard.

As long as Duo adhered to his citizenship in the wizarding world, Une and Zechs really couldn't touch him. _Ace!_

That didn't mean he immediately disregarded the escape plans, however.

"Diplomatic mission, huh? That's cool," Duo said, beaming. He turned to his slightly befuddled Gryffindor companions. "Hey, you guys go ahead without me. I'll be there in a minute. Harry, Hermione, Ron, you three stick around. I want you to meet some old friends of mine."

"Such a delight to see old friends, isn't it?" Dumbledore said boisterously as the others trickled into the Great Hall, leaving behind the four Gryffindor students. "Well, I do believe we shall leave our guests in your very capable hands, Mr. Maxwell. Please try not to keep them long; I'm sure they are very famished, and they would enjoy the very scrumptious meal our school has to offer."

"Of course, AB," Duo said, giving the old man a thumbs up. McGonagall looked properly scandalized by the Gryffindor's apparent lack of respect, but Dumbledore merely chuckled and led her into the Great Hall, trailed by the other professors.

This, of course, left Duo with introducing the old friends to the new friends. And no one could ever accuse Duo of ever doing anything the _proper_ way.

"Relena, Lady Une, Zechs, this is Harry. He eats babies," Duo said, rather matter-of-factly. Oh, how he wished he could see the expression on Harry's face at that announcement, especially after seeing the sheer malicious glee on ol' Snape's face when the American noticed the Potions Master had raised his eyebrow at Harry's general direction upon Duo's words just before the man disappeared behind the extravagant doors of the Great Hall.

Relena, however, had an excellent view of Harry's expression; a very descriptive term to distinguish such a look would be 'gobsmacked'. The poor boy couldn't have looked more shocked if he was suddenly slapped in the face with a dead tuna. Then again, Relena thought with a fond smile, Duo had that affect on people.

"Preferably small newborns," Duo went on bravely, his face the absolute picture of sincerity, "since they are a bit easier to chew, but a toddler will do in a pinch. His friend Ron is an unrepentant puppy killer, and my Slytherin friend Draco... well, we don't talk about his hobbies much, but it involves thumbscrews and a tendency to wear conforming leather. There. I've said enough."

"Puppy killer?" Ron shrieked, agog.

Relena, lips twitching in amusement, attempted to copy Duo's facial expression as she nodded solemnly. "I see. And your female companion?"

"That's Hermione," Duo said, leaning forward and whispering loudly, "She reads too much."

Duo could almost hear the girl roll her eyes in exasperation.

"Guys, this is Relena Dorlian Peacecraft, Lady Une, and... is it still Zechs, or do you go by Milliardo now? No offense, man, but I thought you were kind of dead until now." Duo glanced the blond man over critically. "Looking pretty spry for a corpse."

Heero's former adversary found himself smirking in amusement at Duo's rather extemporary attitude. "Milliardo Peacecraft. Though I don't believe we've ever formally met, Duo Maxwell."

"I know, right? It's a shame," Duo said, preening. "Who could even think they know perfection without being in my marvelous presence? You're forgiven, though."

"You need to stop hanging around Malfoy," Harry said mildly. "You're starting to sound an awful lot like him."

Ron, shivering, replied, "He is, isn't he? I knew Malfoys were contagious. Duo, stop it before your hair turns blond and you start parading around like you own the place."

"Just because I sold your ass to slavery behind your back -but you're not supposed to know that yet, so forget I said anything," Duo said whimsically, hiding a smile when he saw the very apparent amusement in Relena's eyes.

"It's nice to see you're getting along so well with adapting to this fascinating way of life," Relena said softly, waving her hand around the majestic structure that was not only a school to Duo, but somewhat of a home he never really had. "I really was so worried about you, Duo. It's not like you to drop out of sight without so much as a word to your friends. That is... before I lost contact with the others, as well."

Some of the amusement had faded from Relena's cornflower blue eyes, and damn him if Duo didn't like to see any kind of sadness in a girl's eyes. Of course Relena would be worried about the former Gundam pilots, especially with all of the bad press about them lately. Realistically, contacting her in any way, shape, or form could have lead their pursuers to them; but that didn't stop Duo from feeling like a jerk because of it. And since Lady Une and Zechs also seemed to be silently rooting for the Gundam pilots' further freedom, he didn't see any harm in informing the girl that the other four were at Hogwarts, as well.

Too bad Quatre beat him to the punch. The fair Winner heir, arm in arm with his taller, quieter boyfriend, a picnic basket between them (filled with, Duo assumed, all the makings of a romantic luncheon in some isolated glade somewhere off school grounds because that just seemed like such a Trowa thing to decide to treat his boyfriend to) rounded the corner. Both pilots froze in classic deer-caught-in-the-headlights mode, Duo's first instinct was to laugh. His second instinct was to wince because, much like him, they probably assumed that whatever was about to hit the fan would not be evenly distributed.

Duo lifted his hand and waved at them weakly, trying for a casual laugh. "Er, hey, guys. Look who decided to drop in."

Quatre, always one for polite conversation, delicately said, "We can see that quite well on our own, thank you, Duo."

Relena looked positively ecstatic. "Quatre! Trowa? You two are here, as well?"

By the looks of things, Zechs was having the time of his life with this sudden development. "Trowa Barton. I thought I'd be running into you again."

Trowa raised his single visible eyebrow. "Wish I could say the same(1). I thought you were dead, myself."

"I seem to be getting that a lot," Zechs replied casually.

"Hm. Lady Une," Trowa said steadily, meeting the stern woman's eyes. "Always an honor."

Une smiled wryly. "I should hope so, Barton."

And if that doesn't speak volumes about history, Duo thought, wondering how weird it would be to come face to face with a very convincing prized pupil that eventually turned out to be an infiltrated Gundam pilot. Then he realized it was those same convincing infiltration tactics that lead to the destruction of his beloved Deathscythe, and a grudging Duo was nobody's friend. Of course, in trying to take his mind off the fact that it was Trowa who destroyed his buddy in the first place, he recalled it was Une who was eager to sign and initial the documents that ordered Duo's execution.

Why did he think it was safe to be around these people again? Masochism. Had to be. It was the only logical explanation besides suicidal tendencies.

"Um, surprise?" Duo said with a grin. He sent Quatre and Trowa a calming glance before continuing, "Wufei and Heero are around here somewhere, too. Wufei's probably hiding from all the ladies wanting to date him, and Heero's probably getting the crap annoyed out of him by Draco, who has become amazingly resilient to the Death Glares." The slight reminder that his secret protege had progressed so far in taking his boyfriend's stoic and sometimes hostile attitude with a grain of salt cheered Duo up a lot.

That cheer immediately fled in the face of realization when Duo saw the hopeful look in Relena's eyes at the mention of Heero.

He'd completely forgotten that Relena had a longstanding crush on Heero. And Relena wouldn't exactly know about Duo and Heero's relationship.

Damn it. He hated seeing girls sad. He absolutely abhorred having girls being sad because of something he'd done, unwittingly or not.

----------

Meanwhile, Draco was annoying the crap out of one Heero Yuy, resolutely ignoring the heavy glare that was boring into skull like a red hot fireplace poker. While he did have to admit that he'd gotten very good at crawling under Heero's skin (to the ever-present amazement of his fellow Slytherins), he couldn't exactly look Heero in the eyes for very long before his own eyes began to water at the very intensity of Heero's glare.

Draco liked getting under people's skin. That didn't make him _suicidal_.

"I hear the Shrieking Shack is a popular hotspot for an intense snogging session," Draco drawled in mock earnestness, his eyes gleaming as he steadily not-focused on Heero's face. "Though I can't imagine the appeal of snogging in front of _that_ eyesore; the sheer distraction of the monstrosity would completely overshadow any hormonal impulses I would be feeling. Oh, but I've heard Rosemerta looks away when teenaged couples want to dine alone in one of her private dining rooms, but despite the popularity of that option, I don't think much dining actually gets done back there because I rarely ever see her venture away from the main pub. Of course, if you're feeling brave and like a little danger spiced with your snogging sessions, you can venture off the path leading back to Hogwarts and find a comfortable spot in the Forbidden Forest to do it, but I wouldn't recommend that after the sun sets."

"Draco."

"Yes, Heero?"

"Shut. Up."

Success.

"Of course, Heero." Draco smiled winningly, fluttering his eyelashes as he steepled his fingers and looked toward the irritated Japanese Slytherin slyly. "I could talk about lubricant, instead."

Blaise choked on his pumpkin juice. Even Vince and Greg seemed to want to flee at the very sight of Heero's irate expression, but their loyalty to Draco prevented them from doing so.

If Heero made any reply, be it verbal or nonverbal, Draco didn't notice it. He was a little distracted by the procession of a mixture of old and new faces that entered the Great Hall over Heero's shoulder. Seeing Duo enter with Harry, Granger, and the Weasel wasn't what interested Draco as much as the appearance of the three oddly dressed individuals that followed them. Duo seemed to be chatting quietly with a rather pretty girl, sometimes waving his hands emphatically as he looked to the older and equally stunning man and woman with her. All three of the newcomers seemed especially impressed with the Great Hall's renowned ceiling, something even Draco admired from time to time.

Pansy gasped audibly from the other side of Vince, her eyes focused mainly on the rather tall, handsome blond man with the steely blue eyes. "Oh, merciful spirits..."

Even _Millicent_ was fanning herself at the sight of the man. Millicent just didn't _do_ things like that! In fact, popular consensus dictated that Millicent was a lesbian, explaining the fact she never seemed to blink at male beauty.

Heero was quick to note the constant conversation of other students fading into silence, quickly turning in his seat to survey the cause of it. "Relena..."

Heero... Shocked? And ice skaters were flocking to _hell_.

Movement from the staff table brought Draco's attention to Dumbledore, who looked about as happy as that half-giant oaf with a new 'harmless' pet.

"You've no doubt noticed that Hogwarts is playing host to our esteemed guests this very day," the Headmaster announced cheerfully. "I'm happy to inform you all that for the first time since the founding of Hogwarts, we've had some very prominent figures from the muggle world wanting to visit our school."

Muggles?

_Muggles_?

Where were the disfiguring warts? The overhanging brows? The rather vacant and empty-headed dispositions? The cattle-like quality that all purebloods were lead to believe muggles had? Muggles weren't supposed to be well-dressed and well-groomed and... and they certainly weren't supposed to look _normal_. Not like just another witch or wizard!

Not for the first time, Draco Malfoy (and a fair few other purebloods) were severely disillusioned about what they knew of the world and how it worked.

"They can't be muggles," Pansy whispered frantically. "Mother said muggles have ears like house-elves!"

"My dad said muggles have beady little eyes that are set really far apart, like a boar," Pritchard hissed to Baddock.

"My mum said they have hairy hands and feet, so thick they might as well be dogs," Baddock whispered back.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, silencing all whispered discussions once more. "May I present Ms. Relena Dorlian, muggle Vice-Foreign Minister, along with her associates Lady Une, head of the Preventer Organization -which, I'm lead to believe is much like our Aurors- and Preventer Milliardo Peacecraft. I would hope you all treat our guests with the respect their positions entail, as they are very taken with our wizarding customs and laws and would appreciate speaking with some of you in only the most courteous of manners."

The pretty girl smiled and bowed to Dumbledore. "You honor us with your generosity, Albus."

Muggles were _not_ supposed to be so formal; in fact, muggles weren't supposed to speak in full sentences, either. Didn't these people know they were breaking the rules?(2)

"Not as much as you honor us with your presence, my dear," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Now, let us continue this delicious feast!"

And, like that, everyone went back to their meals; however, no one's eyes strayed from the curious newcomers for longer, judging by the frequent glances toward the entryway of the Great Hall.

Heero scowled at his fellow housemates scathingly. "You people are seriously stunted."

"On behalf of my people: Hey," Draco said in protest, still trying to determine just how these muggles could look so bloody _normal_. He tensed when he realized that Duo was leading that same pretty girl directly... toward... Slytherin.

Oh, that's just _begging_ for bloodshed. Duo knew better, damn it.

"This," Duo said in a grandiose manner, "is the notorious Slytherin House, home of the sly, the ambitious, and the smarmy comeback. Fair warning: most of them bite. Hey, Draco." Those two words, for all the friendliness they held, seemed to be laced with the threat of something painful if Draco didn't place nice.

Ugh. Draco screwed up all of the courtesy his mother drilled into him since birth and smiled in polite disinterest. "Duo. I see you've picked up a new... friend."

Ick.

"This is Relena, an old friend of ours," Duo said cheerfully. "Relena, this is my friend Draco Malfoy. He doesn't play well with others."

Damn right he didn't.

The girl smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy. Duo mentioned you briefly earlier; something about copious amounts of leather and thumbscrews," she added, smiling at Duo in amusement.

"Duo," Draco said, smile frozen on his face, "what lies have you been spreading about me?"

"Relax, Dragon Boy," Duo said with a grin. "I also told her Ron was a puppy killer and Harry eats babies."

Relena's smile softened slightly as she looked to Heero, who silently stood from his seated position. There was definitely... something... between them, causing Draco to furrow his brows curiously. Heero's omnipresent scowl was gone, replaced by something that was slightly respectful, and the girl's eyes shown with admiration and a certain amount of... love? Was that a _blush_ staining her cheeks? And Duo... Duo's happy-go-lucky expression was notably fixed into place, as if anyone could just come by and easily tear that mask away.

Uh-oh. Competition.

"Heero..." Relena said softly, smiling fondly. "It's... so good to see you again."

"Relena," Heero said quietly, nodding his head in greeting.

"When Duo told us the rest of you were here, I was so happy to hear that you were safe," the girl went on. "It hasn't quite been the same without you five... I was very worried about you, especially, but I've always known you can take care of yourself. All of you can."

"Always," Duo said cheerfully. "You, of all people, know that well enough."

Relena turned that smile at Duo, saying, "Of course, Duo; I would never doubt that for a moment." Her smile faded slightly, and she looked back to Heero in a rather hopeful manner. "I was hoping, after lunch, you and I could talk privately? It would... mean a lot to me."

Draco hoped Heero would refuse; he _did_ have a date with his bloody boyfriend. The same boyfriend the stupid girl didn't seem to realize was standing right beside her. In fact, it looked to be the case when Heero looked at Duo and said, "Actually, we-"

And then Duo did something incredibly _stupid_. "Of course he will, Relena. You and Heero have a lot to catch up on, after all."

... What?

Heero blinked. "Duo-" But the American Gryffindor was waving his boyfriend off, smiling disarmingly in an almost casually dismissive manner.

"Maa, Hee-chan, I'll meet you in Hogsmeade later, okay? You and Relena should have a private chat, you know?" And Duo's eyes seemed to be radiating understanding, of all things, which was just weird. "Update each other on what's been going on. Really. I'll probably be at the Three Broomsticks when you decide to come to Hogsmeade."

Heero studied his boyfriend's earnest disposition and his wide, sincere amethyst eyes for all of several long, silent seconds before, finally, his head dipped down in a single nod of affirmation. "Aa."

Duo smiled again before patting the muggle's hand comfortingly. "Go eat, Miss Relena. Can't have you feeling faint on your very first visit to Hogwarts, can we?"

And why not? Draco honestly wanted to know.

"Only if you promise me you and the others will visit with me later, Duo," Relena said insistently. "There's so much things we all need to catch up on, and... as much as it pains me, there are things of a more serious nature that we need to discuss."

"Of course," Duo said simply, grinning playfully. "You're staying most of the evening, right? We'll meet with you after dinner tonight. I'm not sure poor Trowa and Quatre would want their little picnic disturbed so early."

Relena smiled fondly. "Somehow I always knew those two had feelings for one another. It's very sweet."

Duo flickered a glance at Heero. "Yeah... I'm glad it worked out. See you later, Relena. Hee-chan." He patted the girl's hand once again before, finally, turning away and leaving the Hall altogether, much to Draco's ire.

He withstood the urge to follow as soon as the girl left with some quiet words to Heero that Draco couldn't be bothered to be interested in. Well, at least for five minutes before, with a cursory glance at Heero, he stood and left the Hall just as quickly, intent on finding one Duo Maxwell and demanding as to just what the hell that had been all about.

Duo wasn't hard to find, in fact; Draco had only to look for the braided boy in the Gryffindor dorm. More specifically, in the sixth years boy dormitory, where that strange contraption that Duo called a stereo was softly churning out the beginning chords of a song that sounded both sad and strangely haunting. It wasn't anything like what Draco had heard before, so he could only assume it was something completely muggle... which, damn it all, Draco found himself _not minding at all_, what with all the nifty so-called muggle gadgets Duo and the others had been slowly introducing to him.

Stupid muggles.

Duo stood silently in front of the open window, the cold winter air cutting into the warmth of the room. The American Gryffindor seemed strangely... contemplative. Draco couldn't rightly say he'd seen Duo like this many times before, as it was only very rarely the boy ever shut up and fell into this kind of mood.

It was oddly discomforting.

"Well?" Draco said haughtily, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the doorway, not quite willing to step within Duo's space. "That girl obviously has the hots for your boyfriend. Why the hell did you suddenly decide they needed to spend a private moment together?"

Duo glanced over his shoulder, smiling slightly. "It's a bit more complicated than a simple crush, Draco. Heero and Relena have some... history. I think it's important for Heero to hash things out with Relena before anything between Heero and I goes on further. He's never given her the indication that anything romantic could happen between them, but... He's always respected her ideals."

"What, and suddenly your happiness doesn't matter?" Draco said scornfully. "I take back all the tolerable things I've said about you -you _deserve_ to be in Gryffindor, you self-sacrificing twit."

"There's just a lot of history," Duo said distantly after a moment of pause, his eyes turning to the no-doubt fascinating scene out of the dormitory window. "I'm not worried about anything that could happen between Relena and Heero. Heero just doesn't see her that way, despite Relena wishing differently. And... she was one of the people that helped Heero see that a life for him during peacetime _is_ possible. He respects Relena in ways that I can't even fathom, and she admires him for a lot of the same reasons I do.

"But now it's time for Heero to tell her that, while he's fond of her, she's nothing more than a sister to him," Duo went on simply, finally turning to look at Draco again. "He'll probably never get the opportunity to do so again, since we're currently persona non grata in the muggle world right now. I don't think any of us plan to go back any time soon, and this could be one of the last moments those two have with each other. Relena's very important in the muggle world, Draco, and she can't have her reputation ruined if someone found out she was still in contact with Heero. Or any of us, for that matter. I say let them savor it; air out some old issues, reveal new ones, and... move on."

"You're an idiot." Draco said after a long pause, shaking his head. "Completely without sense."

Duo laughed. "You still love me, though. You love me enough to keep me company in Hogsmeade."

Draco had the right mind to refuse. He really did. However, he didn't have plans for Hogsmeade, and no one could claim that Duo was _boring_. "Twist my arm, why don't you? Slag!"

"Brat," Duo countered all in good humor. Draco moved back to allow Duo to move passed him and down the steps with the Malfoy heir trailing right behind him, the haunting melody of Duo's music box following them downstairs until the music became faint and the words faded into inaudible murmuring.

"_Our home forever is outer space._

_Black stars and endless seas; outer space._

_New hope, new destinies; outer space._

_Forever we'll be in outer space, outer space._"

_**END CHAPTER NINETEEN**_

* * *

**(1) From what I can recall (and trust me, it's been AGES), Trowa and Heero are the only Gundam pilots Zechs Marquise formally met face to face. I'm almost sure he also met Wufei, but that may be Wufei's obsession with Trieze and Trieze's association with Zechs interfering with my better memory, so I'm going to pretend Zechs and Wufei never really met in the same respect Heero and Trowa have. I know for a fact Zechs and Duo haven't met, and I'm almost as certain about Zechs and Quatre, as well.**

**(2) Okay, this is how I figure it. See, purebloods feel so much superior to muggles and those descended from muggles because muggles themselves are made out to be _different_ from them. Dirty. Stupid. _Inferior_. And since most stupid stuck-up people who have this mentality certainly hate diversity (and _like_ feeling as if they are le creme da la creme), they would certainly find reasons to liken others as nothing more than common animals. Or worse. So, even though a pureblood child has probably never seen a muggle in his or her life, that same pureblood child would associate muggles with animalistic qualities, marking a muggle as easy to spot. The fact that Relena, Une, and Zechs _look_ like any ordinary witch or wizard would, well, they're a little knocked off-kilter because of it. Meanwhile, the same pureblood child wouldn't understand why muggles like the Dursleys regard witches and wizards in much of the same manner. The whole superiority thing is probably my only beef with Slytherin House as a whole; otherwise, I'm typically Slytherin to the bone when it comes to slyness and ambition. (Remember: Slytherin is the house where one will find "your true friends", if the Sorting Hat is to be believed. So many people seem to overlook that.)**


	20. Chapter Twenty

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty**_

Marvin Honeyduke, founder of the very same sugary confection shop that proudly bore his surname, found himself unable to control the very happy smile that spread across his face. Ah, youth. He remembered a time when he was young once, attending the very same school of magic only a little less than a mile away, decades ago. Everyone knew of Marvin and his happy-go-lucky disposition, always emphasized by a quirky smile and a skip to his step. Some would say that would be proof that Marvin Honeyduke was of very great character, as he was also an honest and congenial man who priced fairly on his delicious concoctions, going as far as to giving out free samples of his best fudge on Hogsmeade weekends, to the esteemed pleasure of the Hogwarts students that crowded his shops on such special days.

What few people knew about Marvin was that he was a proud Slytherin -though house standings rarely mattered once a student had graduated from Hogwarts. No, he was Slytherin in that he was sly and ambitious to a fault. It was no mere accident that Marvin opened his candy cove near a school. Candy, children... the sheer simplicity of the combination was a guaranteed success, leaving Marvin to wonder why no one had thought of it before.

Oh, well. Their loss, his financial gain.

So while business was always booming, making Marvin a very wealthy man indeed, there was but a simple day out of the year that he loved the most, all from a capitalistic standpoint. Valentine's Day was the one day in the year that revenue soared through the proverbial roof, for what better gift for your loved one than Honeyduke's famous fudge, chocolates, and the ever-so-loved sour flobberworms that wiggled and writhed like real flobberworms when one swallowed? He was especially proud this year, as he'd finally perfected his new product, a bestseller amongst his more adult clientele -Chocolate Kinks, guaranteed to put a little extra kink in the bedroom.

"Wow," Duo said with a big grin on his face as he surveyed one Mr. Marvin Honeyduke cuddling a rather large bag of galleons with a silly smile on his faintly lined face. "Someone's having a good day."

"Have you ever had Honeyduke's chocolate before?" Draco said with a snort. "It's better than sex, and everyone knows it. Even if he had competition, no one can top Honeyduke's. This is like Christmas to him."

"And here I was assuming he'd swallowed one too many happy pills," Duo mused before turning a sly look to Draco. "Better than sex? And you would know... how?"

"Stop thinking about my sex life before I do something I won't regret."

"Speaking of your sex life, how's Harry?" Duo said impishly, sliding a sly glance at Draco once again. The American Gryffindor was silently delighted to see the very faint pink hue to the Malfoy heir's cheeks, though whether it was from embarrassment or anger, he wasn't sure.

"What was that?" Draco demanded.

"What?" Duo said innocently.

"No -don't play dumb! You just implicated that Harry bloody Potter was in some way related to my sex life, and I won't have it! Hear that, Duo Maxwell? I won't stand for it! And stop that infernal grinning before I render you incapable of having your deformed offspring!"

Duo did his best to wipe the smarmy grin from his face, he really did; but seeing someone as casually cool and collected as Draco Malfoy go into a mad rant about defending his virtue from someone he was so obviously enamored with was a laughable concept.

"I love how you immediately assumed my offspring would be deformed," Duo pointed out, his attention almost wholly focused on a section of sweets that boasted they were for those with unique tastes. "That gave your threat a touch of classical elegance, don't you think?"

"Now you're just mocking me," Draco said with a heartfelt sigh. "Why do I put up with people like you? You do nothing but make improper insinuations and malign my character with oh-so-subtle barbs involving Potter and me having sex with him."

"That's the second time you've brought that up," Duo said with hidden glee. "Methinks you have a fixation, Dragon Boy. Cockroach Clusters. They're not _really_ chocolate covered cockroaches, are they?" Duo inquired, studying a gaily decorated box that proclaimed the brand.

"What you see is what you get. And I _don't_ have a fixation. You and the rest of your bloody friends have the fixation," Draco said testily.

"I've had chocolate covered ants before, but that wasn't really on purpose," Duo said absently, his mind going back to the time when he found, much to his disgust, that the sweets in one of the many safe houses had been compromised too little, too late.(1)

"You're not paying any attention to me at all, are you?" Draco lamented, feeling slightly put out that his only audience was more interested in what was on the shelves than his very presence. Malfoys rarely had to pander for the very attention they clearly deserved, and Duo just wasn't playing by the script. Realizing the world didn't revolve around him was a surprisingly refreshing new concept, if not a little discomforting.

"What? Hey, look -Blood Lollies! They don't really taste like blood, do they?"

Right. Well. That answered his question.

"Of course I'm paying attention to you," Duo said after they left Honeyduke's, his hands busy unraveling his blood-flavored lollipop, much to Draco's disgust. "But let's face it. You're not very edible, especially considering the fact that I'm sure cannibalism is illegal here. And there are other ways I can indulge your edibility, but neither Heero nor Harry would thank me for it. Let's face it, Draco -you're way too high maintenance for my taste."

"Don't be disgusting," Draco demanded. "And stop trying to make it seem like Harry gives one wit about me. He doesn't. And I _loathe_ him."

"Potter."

"What?"

"You mean 'Potter'. If you loathe Harry, you wouldn't call him by his given name."

"I..." ... Damn him. "Why do I tolerate you again?"

Duo shrugged casually as he popped the lolly in his mouth. "Blatant masochistic tendencies? And I have a nice ass."

"I don't see what your arse has to do with anything."

"My ass has a lot to do with it. You wouldn't be seen around me if I looked like a frumpy little nobody, especially since I'm in Gryffindor."

Touche.

Their next destination, much to Draco's ire, was the new joke shop that sported the name Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, which was one place the Malfoy heir had staunchly vowed never to step foot in. He was only mollified with the knowledge that the annoying Weasley twins spent most of their time at their Diagon Alley branch, despite the fact that the shop in Hogsmeade was fairly new. Unfortunately, Duo had to pick the day the twins were actually _present_.

Draco delivered a swift glare to the heavens. _Bugger you, too._

"Customers!" one of those annoying Weasels cheered, drawing the attention of his identical brother.

"And look who else slithered into our humble store," said the other with keen interest from behind the till, putting down the suspicious item that he'd been tinkering with. "A Malfoy! Why, will wonders never cease?"

"Quite right, Fred," chimed the other.

"As always, George."

Duo grinned gleefully. "Oh, you three know each other?"

"Unfortunately," Draco said dourly. "The Weasley twins. These two are solely responsible for the nice little swamp in one of the school's corridors; a parting gift right before they dropped out."

"I say, the swamp's still there?" Fred -or George, one could never tell with these two- said cheerfully. "Flitwick must have been really impressed. I heard he was keeping it around for the sheer brilliancy of it."

"So nice to know we left an everlasting effect on future generations," the other said.

"No need to ask who you are."

"Long braid, American, palsy-pals with the ferret."

"Duo Maxwell," the twins chimed together.

"Ron's told us tons about you."

"No worries; most of it's good."

Duo smirked. "Ferret, weasel. You people really do have an obsession with likening others to animals."

Draco gritted his teeth when the twins exchanged amused looks.

"The ferret started it," George (Fred?) said.

"Calls us weasels all the time."

"Though to be fair, he only calls Ron 'Weasel'."

"I suppose Malfoy here has never told you about his brief but memorable time as a ferret?"

"Wish we'd been there," said one twin wistfully. "Draco Malfoy..."

"The Amazing Bouncing Ferret," finished the other with a wicked smirk.

"Nope," Duo said casually, "but, being the shrewd businessmen you're both sure to be, I doubt you'd bring up something like just to embarrass my friend here. It's not very conductive to keeping customers around, even if I can almost credit you with indirectly getting me together with my boyfriend with your mistletoe."

"Hey, our mistletoe worked?" Fred said gleefully, his eyes going between Duo and Draco.

"Good show! Nice to see you're allowing yourself to experience the love that dare not speak its name, Malfoy," George said eagerly.

"Beautiful couple. This one has a nice arse," Fred said casually, pointing at Duo.

Draco growled beneath his breath when Duo laughed. "Are you kidding? Dragon Boy is so not my type!"

"His type has a more homicidal maniac quality to him," Draco said testily.

"I'll have you know that Hee-chan is very calm and collected about his homicidal tendencies," Duo said proudly. "He plans it out way in advance. There's no 'maniac' quality about it."

The twins shared wondering looks, as if neither could quite decide if that was meant as a joke. Draco, who damn well _knew_ it wasn't a joke, snickered quietly as Duo went about perusing the shelves with renewed interest, keeping with the playful banter as he went along. The twins were happy to oblige him, matching the Gryffindor's quick wit tit for tat. Somehow Draco knew those three would get on like a house on fire.

"You aren't so bad," Fred Weasley said cheerfully, "for an American."

"Quite right, George," the other twin said, and Draco decided to just give up on guessing which twin was which. It was much easier just to go by the whole twin reference. "Good sense of humor. Not too many people left these days with a good sense of humor, right Gred?"

"Of course, Forge."

"Come back anytime."

"Make lots of purchases to soothe our capitalistic needs," encouraged the other.

"But, you know, coming by to chat wouldn't hurt either," Fred said. "We'd just like it if you bought something, too."

"I like them," Duo said once they'd left the damnable store, tucking away a Canary Cream that Draco was certain had Wufei's name written on it ever since Duo laid his eyes on the product. "Quirky."

"Somehow I knew you would," Draco said bitterly. "You owe me a butterbeer for having to put up with the poverty-stricken since birth for over an hour, Duo. Bloody Weasleys..."

"Y'know, I just have to ask," Duo said casually, following Draco's beeline for the Three Broomsticks. "Do you even know why the entirety of the Weasley clan hates the Malfoy clan and vise versa? The curiosity is killing me."

Draco winced. He was afraid someone would ask that eventually. The reason for the family feud, while valid in the eyes of a Malfoy (pride was at stake here), in retrospect, it sounded so very banal. He almost wished it was something as exciting as a Weasley accidently slaying a fair Malfoy maiden or the theft of some Malfoy property by a Weasley that at least made it sound somewhat dignified, but...

"Arthur Weasley flung gum in my father's hair in primary school," Draco mumbled, hoping Duo couldn't hear. And damn the American for having excellent hearing.

"You're kidding." When Draco made no move to indicate that he was, Duo stopped in the middle of the Three Broomsticks to stare at Draco, who was hard-pressed to meet Duo's incredulous eyes. "That's it? That's the start of the big Malfoy-Weasley feud? Arthur Weasley flung _gum_ in your father's hair?"

"There's a lot more to it than that," Draco insisted heatedly, but gave up the ghost as soon as he was able to meet Duo's frank gaze. "But yeah, that's the gist of it."

"What's the gist of it?"

Draco closed his eyes in defeat. Of course. He turned to look at the Gryffindor Golden Trio, Harry Bloody Potter leading as usual.

"Arthur Weasley flung gum in Lucius Malfoy's hair," Duo said with that same disbelieving tone that made it seem so farfetched. "_That's_ the whole reason for the great Weasley and Malfoy clash. Gum. In Lucius Malfoy's hair. Arthur Weasley flinging it."

"Wait a tick," Weasel said loudly, sounding just as surprised by this as Duo was. "_That's it?_ No nefarious Malfoy deed, a Malfoy didn't wrong a Weasley -my dad threw gum in Lucius Malfoy's hair, and suddenly two clans absolutely despise each other?"

Draco lifted his chin defiantly. "No, that's why my _father_ hates you and yours. I simply hate _you_ for reasons that are all my own. Your family, I can learn to ignore."

"Oh, I've got to hear this," Duo said mockingly. "Lay it on me, Dragon Boy. What's your own personal vendetta against Ron?"

"I bloody well don't have to tell you anything about it," Draco snapped, unwilling to inform Duo that the reason Draco hated Weasley was because the little bogtrodding git had laughed at his name. Draco was sensitive about his name. Not just anyone could go around saying his name was Draco, and that didn't make his name a laughing matter!

Potter, however, seemed to catch on rather quickly. "Oh. Oh, that's just precious. Like father, like son, huh, Draco?"

And damn Potter for sounding so amused.

"You were present for this momentous event that sparked the new generations hatred?" Duo smirked. "C'mon. Tell me. I really want to hear this."

"Yeah," Weasley said in bemusement. "Can't be any worse than Lucius Malfoy hating my father for throwing gum in his hair."

"I can't believe you don't remember," Draco grumbled, resisting the urge to cross his arms and pout. "You're such a bloody oblivious git, Weasel."

"Don't you remember, Ron?" Harry said with a grin. "First year, on the train? Draco came in all pretty as he pleased, introduced himself... and you snickered at his name?"

The candle flame flickered to life between Weasley's eyes. "That's it. I laughed at your name. That's why you've called me names and gone as far as insulting my mother?"

"I've think we've already established that fact that I'm petty, Weasel," Draco said testily. "And you've insulted my mother, too, Weasley."

"Actually, I probably would have been just as petty if you'd made fun of my name," Duo said reasonably. "Just not for six years. More like six minutes. Damn, Dragon Boy, you take grudges to a whole new level."

"Oh, dear Lord," Granger mumbled. Draco winced again. Looks like she'd caught on, as well, bugger it all. "Second year. You never paid me a bit of attention until that time I accused you of buying your way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team. That was the first time you called me a mudblood."

"I'm petty," Draco grounded out. "We've established that. Moving on now."

"So what did Harry do?" Granger inquired, raising a brow. "You lashing out at people tends to be a character trend. It can't be Harry's mere existence. You're getting along with him just fine now. Sort of."

Unwillingly, Draco glanced at Potter, seeing an almost identical look of realization pass across his eyes as Granger did only moments ago. His slight against Draco was even more hurtful than Granger's accusation and Weasley's amusement combined.

Draco had wanted to be his friend since that day in Diagon Alley, when the both of them were being measured for their robes. The Malfoy heir hadn't an opportunity to meet anyone else his age without his father's influence, and meeting someone who wasn't within his father's chosen companions was a novelty. The boy was scrawny and didn't dress in properly fitted clothing, but he had been interesting. Draco had realized that perhaps taking the kind of attitude with the boy hadn't been wise (as it had been the kind of attitude he'd held with Vince and Greg, who were used to it by that time), and had planned to make up for it when they met again. The fact that the scrawny little thing in baggy muggle clothes happened to be Harry Potter made Draco's desire to be his friend more the sweeter, and when Potter had refused to even shake his hand was... painful.

"Our reason for not getting along has little to do with me being petty," Draco replied flatly. "I think we'll leave it at that."

"Draco-" Harry started, but the Malfoy heir easily brushed him off.

"Butterbeer. Now," he said to Duo, who was looking between the two of them in avid interest. The American Gryffindor seemed to realize that this was the end of the joke, the punchline already being said, and he nodded amiably as they went to a booth.

Unfortunately, it was Potter who decided to slide in beside Draco, effectively trapping the Malfoy heir against the wall. "You can't possible think it's all my fault we never got along, Malfoy!"

"Why can't I?" Draco said quietly, his voice heavy with a tone that clearly stated that Harry Potter just didn't want to Go There.

"You were being a prat," Harry argued. "You were a prat in Diagon Alley, and you were a prat on the train. I've only started to realize that your pratdom has certain layers that, occasionally, are actually very non-abrasive and witty. Then was not that time."

"The eye of the beholder, Potter," Draco said categorically. "Tell me, if I were being a prat that day in Diagon Alley, do you actually think I would have deemed you worthy to talk to, dressed the way you were with your messy hair and broken glasses? For once in my life, there was someone my age who wasn't on my father's list of pre-approved friends. Maybe I took the wrong attitude with you, but I realized that and promised myself I'd try to be better when I saw you on the train.

"And then I found out you were Harry Bloody Potter, and that threw me for a bit of loop. Then bloody Weasley laughed at my name, and when I defended myself, you immediately judged me for wrong. So, really, Potter, why can't I blame you for us never actually finding out if we got along or not? Clearly, it doesn't matter now, since we've been able to tolerate each other's proximity for the last two months."(2)

"You're twisting everything around-"

"No, you're just seeing it from your point of view instead of mine," Draco said. "And we're not going to talk about this anymore, or you won't have to worry about You Know Who by the time I'm finished with you, Potter."

"Butterbeer," Duo announced loudly, cutting off any reply that Potter could have made to Draco's threat. "Five mugs. My treat."

Madam Rosemerta went about retrieving the order, and the five of them plunged into a tense silence. Draco hadn't even noticed the Weasel and the Mudblood had slid into the booth, situating themselves in front of Draco when Duo sat on the end. He suddenly realized he was surrounded by Gryffindors he didn't particularly like as much as, say, Duo; or even tolerate like Harry, even though the little Gryffindor Golden Boy was really starting to piss him off.

"You guys have a lot of serious issues that I'm not willing to put up with," Duo announced once Rosemerta had come and gone again, his warm mug of butterbeer in his hands. "So let's talk about something a little less daunting. Did you _see_ all those girls go head over heels for Zechs? It was like watching flies drop in the face of bug repellant. Freaking hilarious."

"That tall bloke with the platinum blond hair, handsome as hell, has the unfortunate disposition of being a muggle?" Draco said critically. "Oh, yeah. Two seconds into that and Pansy couldn't think of a reason _not_ to drool, purity of blood be damned."

Weasel shook his head disparagingly. "Girls are so weird."

Granger shot him a look as Draco snorted into his butterbeer in amusement. "Weasley, you have no tact," the Malfoy heir said lightly, quite enjoying the vexed expression on Granger's face.

"Of course not," Granger muttered. "If he had tact, he'd be Bill."

"Who's Bill?" Duo asked.

"Ron's oldest brother," Harry replied matter-of-factly. "He has five of them."

"That's nice," Duo said distractedly. "So, are they all redheads? Not, I dunno, brunette, with a sort of bulbous nose? Or a sandy blond with a goatee?"

"No," Weasley said in bemusement. "All redheads. Why?"

Duo sighed. "Well, I was hoping a couple of your brothers decided to keep an eye on you or something, but that hope's been thoroughly dashed... since we're being watched by five different men who are all way older than us. And none of them look like the Weasley twins, either."

Draco tensed, taking an almost casual glance around to spot any familiar faces. He cursed silently once he realized he saw a fair few people he was aware of that happily participated in Death Eater activities.

"I see four," Draco whispered lowly, hiding his mouth behind his mug of butterbeer.

"The number jumped to seven," Duo replied gamely. "Two are hiding in the dark corner table over there. Potential threat, Dragon Boy?"

"Death Eaters," Draco confirmed, finishing off the last of his butterbeer. Harry moved as if to look around, but Draco hissed, "Don't look for them! Spirits, Potter, be discreet, would you?"

"Right. Seven potential Death Eaters, four confirmed." Duo sighed. "Something tells me our day just got a whole lot worse."

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY**_

* * *

**(1) There's nothing more disparaging in this world than to be happily munching on a chocolate bar only to find an entire colony of ants has burrowed into the chocolatey center. _Nothing_.**

**(2) I love advocating the truly wronged Malfoy. For some unfathomable reason, I've loved him since the beginning despite his evil Slytherin ways, and I attempted to see the events from his point of view. This is how I see things from his mind.**


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty-One**_

_The more things change_, thought the American Gryffindor with a ruefully amused smirk on his face, _the more they stay the same._

He once thought that single phrase was probably one of the most useless and unfound sayings known to man. The mere structure of the sentence negated both points, but still somehow exclaimed some profound truth that people, in general, understood and accepted as fact. Duo firmly believed that when things changed, they _changed_. The game, the rules to play by in order to be accepted as a potentially successful member of society, hell, even becoming accustomed to an entirely different culture changed everything, didn't it? Change was constant and encompassed everything once that change was implemented. Things didn't "stay the same" in a changed situation, especially on such a large scale as going from living in a scientifically-charged existence to one that defied all scientific logic, like magic. That was a big change that Duo had been sure would require a whole different set of skills.

However.

Here he was, in his new little magic world with some of his new magic friends, sitting in a pub of magic people while silently and quickly plotting how to escape a new yet familiar enemy he fondly referred to as "Charlie". It was true. Even if life completely one-eightied on him, his skills as an ex-terrorist was nothing to brush off since he suddenly became very aware that they could still be put to a practical use.

"Harry," Duo said in amusement, "if you don't loosen up, you're going to give away the element of counter-surprise."

The Gryffindor Golden Boy tried to appear relaxed and, well, loose; but if there was one thing Harry wasn't good at, it was acting casual in a potentially lethal situation, whereas Duo had that particular ability in spades.

"Counter-surprise?" Draco said lightly, tracing his finger around the rim of his half-empty tankard. It _would_ take the Slytherin to know the purpose of acting natural, since deceit was basically every Slytherins' middle name.

"They expect to have the element of surprise," Duo said simply. "They don't. We're all aware they are here. Therefore, we are given at least several minutes to make counter-measures to assure our safety and make a break for refuge."

"You can't expect us to run," Ron said incredulously. "Someone should at least warn all these people!"

"If they were going to attack us in front of so many witnesses, they would have done so already," Duo replied knowingly. "They're waiting for us to leave because, let's face it, there are about fifty qualified wizards and witches here, and only seven of them -all unmasked, might I add. Trying to nab Harry here would be like suicide."

"I see. They're probably planning to follow us after we leave and ambush us on our way back to Hogwarts, since the path leading from Hogsmeade is fairly secluded," Hermione mused softly. "It's risky, but it's the best chances they've got with only seven wizards. Seven adult wizards against five that are still in training aren't very favorable odds against us."

"Oh, but we're clever," Duo said wickedly. "And they're cocky. Clever wins over cocky any day."

"Sounds to me like someone has a plan," Draco commented, finishing off the rest of his butterbeer. "I'm all for the further survival of the Malfoy lineage."

"Then you're gonna hate me for this, Dragon Boy," Duo grinned, "because you and I have decoy duty."

"I despise your plan already," Draco muttered with a pompous twist of his wrist, as if completely throwing off Duo's comment. "Make another one. A better one."

"Sorry," Duo said with a shrug. "Best one I've got. Numero uno on old Voldemort's wish list is our pal Harry. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are going to make a break for Hogwarts to inform the Headmaster about what's about to go down while you and I are going to lead the enemy on one hell of a wild goose chase. I'm going to need you three," Duo said, pointing to the Golden Trio, "to run around the back of the Three Broomsticks while Draco and I lead them on a more direct approach to Hogwarts. Then you'll need to book it through one of those secret passages Harry's made passing mention about."

"I won't leave you two alone to fight my battles," Harry said firmly, his green eyes hard behind his black-rimmed glasses.

"So you and Potter can be decoy," Draco said cheerfully. "That works for me."

"It would," Duo said dryly. "Don't be stupid, Harry. You're the target; you can't just stick around. You need to get to safety."

"What about you?" Harry said stubbornly. "And -and I can't believe I'm bringing this up- Malfoy? If Malfoy shows even one inclining of protecting me, his father will be furious. And you're new to all of this! They know more spells that can do harm than you do!"

"They may know more spells than me," Duo said with a knowing gleam in his amethyst eyes, "but I know more dirty, underhanded muggle tricks than all of them put together. And Draco can lie his way out of anything. In fact, I'm pretty sure he already has several in mind to explain why he's about to go against seven Death Eaters, right, Dragon Boy?"

"I don't know whether I should hug you for understanding me so well, or snap your neck... for much of the same reason," Draco said flatly. Duo smirked, knowing that the lack of a denial meant that Draco _had_ thought of several reasonable explanations to soothe his father's temper should this ever be brought up.

"First thing first," Duo said, holding up a single finger. "The ingredients. Ron and Draco, this is where you have one of your typical spats in order to distract the pub owner and everyone else while I gather the necessary ingredients. Make it loud, obnoxious, and if punches need to be thrown, you throw them. Got me?"

Ron's face brightened and he smiled gleefully as he cracked his knuckles. "I _like_ this plan!"

Draco was not so excited about Ron abusing his gorgeous face. "You _owe_ me, Maxwell."

"What in Merlin's name do you need here?" Hermione asked crossly. "You aren't going to steal anything, are you? There isn't anything here but food and alcohol!"

"I need ingredients," Duo said simply, smiling. "I'm going to bake a cake."

Hermione and Harry exchanged wary glances when Duo slid from the booth casually. Duo supposed Harry was thinking about the flaming teddy bear instance, reminding the Gryffindor that Duo could get very creative about destruction when he wanted to be. Hermione was probably thinking about less amusing possibilities that involved Duo's past as an expert in gorilla warfare.

"I'm going to the little wizard's room," Duo announced jovially, winking at them before casting Draco and Ron a secretive glance. "Try not to miss me while I'm gone, Dragon Boy. I know how you loathe being left in the esteemed presence of the Gryffindor triumvirate here."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I make no promises about anyone coming out of this relatively blood-free, Maxwell."

"Me neither," Duo said lowly, the grin still fixed on his face before he made a beeline to the bathroom.

Let the show begin.

----------

A mile away, within the safety of the school's wards, Heero Yuy was doing something he was not accustomed to doing; unlike Duo, who was doing something completely within his realm of capabilities.

Heero was trying to figure out just how one went about talking about his _feelings_. So far, he was doing a terrible job of it.

With Duo, it was easy. The braided Deathscythe pilot knew how to interpret Heero's moods so well that Heero had taken for granted the fact that his boyfriend would be around to unveil Heero's feelings with well-spoken jokes and laughter. Relena was so different to deal with in that she had to have it spelled out to her. He couldn't blame the girl for requiring assistance in determining exactly what Heero was thinking because, well, very few people could read Heero the way Duo and the other three pilots could. Perhaps Zechs, but his interpretation of Heero's feelings were impartial and flat, whereas Heero's friends knew there were always deeper meanings to his feelings.

So Heero and Relena walked the cavernous halls of Hogwarts, bereft of students and teachers alike. Relena had taken it upon herself to inform Heero of all the goings-on, from society to politics to the next Who's Who in a world that Heero had neglected to really think about for the last few months. The Vice Foreign Minister only had half of his attention, though he was at least retaining the information she was telling him of. The other half of his attention was focused on just what they were to talk about after Relena ran out of things to say.

"Heero," Relena said softly, "how are you and the others adjusting to this... this world of magic?"

Heero stopped walking, leaning against a stone windowsill and looking out towards the direction of the local all-wizarding village before he finally replied, "Surprisingly well. Wufei's found a group of like-minded scholars to debate with, and Trowa is satisfied that we're all together again. Duo and Quatre enjoy it with an almost childlike reverence."

Relena smiled softly. "I suppose the possibility of magic existing has always been every child's fantasy. And... you? How are you adapting?"

Him? Heero searched for the right words and settled with, "I'm content." Almost happy, even. While he had no missions and still occasionally felt as if he had no purpose, the idea that Duo and the others would always be by his side helped.

"I'm glad," Relena said sincerely, a heavier undertone in her voice, "because I'm beginning to doubt you'll ever be able to come back to our world, Heero. Not any time soon."

Heero nodded stiffly. "People want the war to be a distant past. No one would appreciate being reminded of it."

Relena was silent for all but a moment before she chuckled ruefully and said, "I never stood a chance, did I?"

Heero glanced at her, startled. "What?"

"If I had known before that I was competing for your affection, Heero Yuy," Relena replied with a raised eyebrow, "I think I would have tried harder."

"You could have tried _harder_?" Heero muttered, hard-pressed to hide his incredulity. Instead of offending the girl, she shook her head and laughed. "How did you know?"

"I'm not blind, and I'm slightly offended that you think so," Relena said wryly. "You had a date with Duo, didn't you? Duo as much as said so. And you may not realize this, Heero, but you've been casting glances at the path Duo left on through every window since we left the Great Hall. I'm not the Vice Foreign Minister because I look pretty, you know."

"I never thought otherwise," Heero murmured.

"I've been thinking about this -you and Duo, together- since lunch," Relena admitted quietly. "I guess I've always thought of Duo as your polar opposite; the mere idea that either of you could like one another beyond friendship didn't occur to me, but... it makes sense."

Heero was glad it made sense to _someone_, since even he had trouble acknowledging the idea that Duo could even tolerate someone like him for long periods of time. The only thing he could possibly think of that explained that was...

"He understands me."

"I thought so," Relena said with a soft sigh. "I wouldn't doubt Duo understands you on levels even someone as observant as Milliardo would fear to even try. I'm glad that you have someone who makes you happy, Heero... even if that someone isn't me."

More would have probably been said on the matter if not for one thing. The statue of a somewhat desolate one-eyed witch slid to the side, and Heero was standing protectively in front of Relena with his gun drawn before three familiar, panting teenagers stumbled out of the dark, secret passage.

Harry Potter saw Heero, his green eyes wide with adrenaline and worry. "Duo's in trouble."

Damn. He felt a strange tug in his chest at the announcement before his Perfect Soldier instincts immediately kicked in. "Inform the professors. And find Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre."

Heero didn't bother to waste time holstering his gun before he sprinted down the corridor. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

Through the ignored window, a black cloud of smoke could be seen rising from what one could perceive to be the path leading up to the safety of Hogwarts.

----------

To fully realize the seriousness of the situation, one should immediately backtrack to the point in time when four brave Gryffindors and one sly Slytherin were still executing a plan all but one were unsure about.

Harry did have to admit that Duo couldn't have picked two better people fit for making a scene. He supposed Duo's soldier instincts was responsible for the selection because there was nothing more heated and intense than a fight between a Weasley and a Malfoy, especially when the two aforementioned natural enemies were named Ron and Draco.

Draco, true to fashion, didn't waste time and went straight for Ron's Guaranteed to Cause a Meltdown buttons. Of course, even though the Malfoy heir was ruthless in all things, the boy had an undeniable need to start from the bottom and work his way to the top, as it were.

The first hot-button issue Draco brought up, in his high and haughty tone with that superior arch of a single eyebrow, was the Weasley family's poor finances (or the lack thereof). Ron, anger twisting his face, immediately shot off about Malfoys always buying their way out of trouble, thinking that it gave them an excuse not to live like any morally inclined human being would.

Draco, never one to be concerned with such things as moral obligations, smirked and said something akin to "if you got it, flaunt it", using intellectual words and keeping that same condescending tone that Harry hated so much. And if it annoyed Harry, it definitely irked Ron.

Draco went up a notch by insulting Ron's familial home; Ron retorted that he'd much rather live in a hole than to live in a stately manner and turn out to be a prat like Draco.

When Draco directly insulted Mrs. Weasley was the time Harry finally realized that the two had the entire pub's full attention. Even Madam Rosemerta was standing at the sidelines, looking ready to grab the feuding boys' by the ears and throw them out with a lifetime ban should even one curse be thrown. Harry couldn't see Duo anywhere in the still, mesmerized crowd, but he tried not to look too interested in anything except the rapidly declining situation between Draco and Ron.

And then Draco had to take the fighting a little too far. "Wake up, Weasel," the Malfoy heir taunted, a smug smirk on his lips as his mercury gaze flittered to Harry's face. "No matter what, you'll always just the Boy Who Lived's poverty-stricken little redheaded tagalong, complete with hand-me-down robes and appalling sense of fashion."

Harry was going to _kill_ Malfoy... if Ron didn't do it first. The fact that Ron felt as if he would never quite compare to his brothers had been a sensitive issue since he was young; thinking that he didn't even have a chance finding his own niche with high-profile friends like the Boy Who Lived and, to some extent, the smartest witch at Hogwarts didn't exactly help alleviate Ron's fears. Having someone as cruel as Malfoy throw that in Ron's face didn't exactly do much for the redhead's already battered self-esteem, so Harry wasn't surprised when Ron went to launch himself over the table that seperated the two, completely intent on throttling that smirk right off of Malfoy's smug face.

And then suddenly, Duo was there to hold the irate redhead back. "Whoa, Red, cool it. C'mon, you know Dragon Boy loves crawling under your skin. It's like a game to him. The less you let it affect you, the more you win."

But Draco couldn't let it stop there, could he? No, he simply _had_ to add in his two knuts in that same damn condescending, cooing voice, "Aw, did I step on Weasel's wittle feelings?"

Needless to say, Duo's words did very little to quail the bloodlust in Ron's eyes. The American shot a disbelieving glance at Draco, who was looking perhaps twice as smug as he'd started out being. "You can't just let bygones be bygones, can you? You're such an ass, Dragon Boy."

"My bygones want nothing to do with some uppity commoner's feelings of insignificance," Draco said haughtily. "His problem is low self-esteem, which is very common for losers like him."

"Why you-" Ron snarled, doing his best to pull away from Duo's firm grip in order to pummel the supercilious boy to his heart's content.

Duo wasn't having it. "Knock it off, you two! You're making a scene," the braided boy lamented dramatically. With a firm hand still grasping Ron's wrist, he jerked his head toward the enthralled viewers before suggesting, "C'mon, guys -time to motor before you do something ridiculously juvenile."

Harry had to hand it to Duo -he was playing the entire situation off like a pro. If Harry hadn't known that the fight was pre-planned (even if both contenders got a little too enthusiastic about their roles) for the benefit of fooling the plain-clothes Death Eaters, he probably would have fallen for Duo's "Woe is me, the guileless American boy has to put up with stubbornly competitive idiots as friends" act, as well.

The braided boy was all smiles and teasing gestures up until the point when the Three Broomsticks door closed behind them; then the fool's mask fell away, and Harry could clearly see that the former soldier was, in all intent and purposes, on a self-appointed mission.

----------

"They won't want to follow us immediately after that scene, so we've got about thirty seconds," Duo snapped off confidently. "You three are going to circle around the pub; stay at the back until you're positive Draco and I have their complete attention. We'll be heading up the known path to Hogwarts while you three take one of those nifty secret passages I've heard so little about. There's no room for argument now, Harry -just do as I say!" he said harshly when he saw the Gryffindor Golden Boy open his mouth to wage further protest. He was _not_ going to argue semantics with a true blue choir boy when timing was everything except predictable.

"Get a move on it already!" he said further, shoving the three toward an alley between the pub and the bookstore. With that, he motioned for Draco to follow him as he moved down the streets of Hogsmeade purposefully, already pulling one of the items he'd lifted from the pub from the folds of his robes.

_Thank _God he thought to himself in relief when he surveyed the nearly deserted streets. Duo didn't want to imagine what he would have done if there had actually been a big crowd out. On one hand, he probably wouldn't have needed the bottle of Firewhiskey in the first place; a crowd would have provided decent cover if he didn't want to get caught. In this case, however, he certainly wanted to be noticed in order to draw attention away from the fact that Harry wasn't with them at all.

"All that," Draco hissed sharply, struggling to keep his voice down, "just so you could lift alcohol?" Pretty boy was probably still stressing over what Ron could have done to his gorgeous face if Duo hadn't interrupted in time.

Duo ripped a strip of his robe from his sleeve, uncorking the bottle of Firewhiskey with his teeth before pouring a little on the strip of cloth and stuffing it into the lid of the bottle. "Makeshift muggle trick, Draco. Gotta love violent improvisation."

His wand was already poised next to the alcohol-damp cloth when he heard the signal he'd been waiting for. He turned boldly to see their little spies file out of the Three Broomsticks, 'casually' glancing around for their prey. Duo had no problem helping them with this matter when he let out a shrill whistle that caused all eight (_Damn_, he thought, _off by one._) men to snap their gazes in his direction... much to Draco's horror.

"_Incendio_," the American whispered, and the cloth caught fire quickly. "Yo, Death Munchers," Duo called cheerfully. "How 'bout a little _cocktail_?" He threw the bottle and didn't even wait for the bottle to shatter and spill liquid flame before he turned and, grabbing Draco by the robes, fled like the very hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. He didn't need visual verification that his aim was true, judging by the panicked shouts and one shrill scream of what was, no doubt, a Death Eater caught afire.

"Where do you learn these things?" Draco demanded as they fled, glancing over his shoulder to see most of the Death Eaters had stopped to aid their companion in putting out the flames that licked at his robes. Two had decided to forgo their companion and pursue the fleeing teenagers.

"Summer Camp for Terrorists on Semi-Permanent Hiatus," Duo answered promptly. He heard one of the Death Eaters yell a curse, which was like giving one's adversary a clue as to what move one was going to make before one made it. This, of course, gave Duo plenty of time (only scant seconds, but then, Duo was good like that) to dodge the Jellylegs Hex effortlessly. "Damn. These guys play for keeps."

"Tell me, Maxwell -_Protego!_- are the points in which our realities coincide purely coincidental, or did the name 'Death Eater' _not_ give you a clue that they might be a little serious about what they do?" Draco said testily, the Stupefy that had been cast harmlessly bouncing off his hastily erected shield and hitting a befuddled passerby. Neither boy paused when the woman crumpled to the ground as they broke passed the little wizarding town's borders and shot up the deserted path leading to Hogwarts.

Duo was already ripping his sleeve and confidently preparing another rough-shot version of a Molotov cocktail before he remarked casually, "No need to snark, Dragon Boy. _Incendio_!" He only took a moment to turn around and cast the cocktail at their pursuers before starting back up the beaten path at a fairly clipped run without even stumbling.

He was starting to really worry about the fact that only four Death Eaters were following, leaving four more unaccounted for. He realized it was an adequate worry when, just only less than a hundred yards away from Hogwarts' wards, the four missing Death Eaters _popped_ into existence, wands at the ready.

Duo didn't have time to think about his actions; his instincts swiftly took over, and he was removing the ace up his sleeve or, in this case, from the inner pocket of his robes. The device was something he never left home without, even during the peaceful times during the summer when he clearly had no reason to be carrying it around. Small, spherical, and very clearly 'muggle', he swiftly pressed the switch down and pulled the pin, barely making note of when the red light began to blink in an increasing rhythm. He threw the grenade forward with all of his might before tackling Draco to the ground and covering the shocked boy with his body protectively.

"Fire in the hole!"

The grenade exploded in a short, deafening roar, drowning out the unfortunate Death Eaters' screams and the surprised cries from their companions.

"What the hell was that?" Draco yelled as Duo scrambled off of him. Duo doubted the volume of his yell had as much to do with panic than the loud ringing of his ears.

Draco hadn't even had a chance to stumble to his feet before a red beam of light struck the boy; the Malfoy heir tumbled to the ground limply.

_Damn!_ The remaining Death Eaters had recovered faster than Duo had thought they would have. The American grimly realized that leaving Draco behind to face the wrath of his father -or worse- was not an option he was willing to consider. His wand grasped firmly in his hand, he held it at the ready.

Four against one. The odds weren't favorable, even by a lucky fool's standards. Duo did what he always did when it came to insurmountable odds stacked against him.

He grinned insanely. The only thing more disconcerting than a smiling victim was a laughing victim. That, in actuality, was next on his checklist.

"You guys need to seriously reconsider your training tactics," Duo gloated, the wide grin still stretched across his face. "I took out four of you with one go. That's gotta hurt your pride."

Duo hoped the Death Eaters would take the bait. He _hated_ it when the bad guys didn't join in on the banter, especially when Duo was killing time in hopes that _some_ kind of aid would come to the rescue.

Luckily, one man decided the insult was too great to ignore; unfortunately, he took it a little too personally as he raised his wand, hissing, "You little mudblood bastard! Avada-"

Surprisingly, one of his companions intervened. "No, you fool!" he hissed, knocking the man's hand away without lowering his own wand. "We're supposed to take him alive!"

... What?

Suddenly Duo had the sinking suspicion that Harry wasn't the target on this little kidnaping expenditure. And that, of course, ruined his plan completely.

The American chuckled grimly, recalling the words earlier spoken and feeling as if they really were ironic. "Oh, but we're clever," he repeated thoughtfully, still laughing. "And they're cocky. Clever wins over cocky any day."

Joke was on him.

He hastily cast a shielding spell when one Death Eater sent off a stunner, but he hadn't enough time to even get the vocal command from his voice when the second stunner hit him.

... And then there was nothing...

... He didn't even hear Heero call his name in anguish...

----------

Heero arrived in time to see his lover struck down, falling limply to the ground beside the unconscious body of the Malfoy heir. He hadn't even known he'd yelled Duo's name until his lover's attackers were turning their wands toward him... but he reacted quickly enough with is own weapon of choice, raising his gun and firing a shot at the man who's spell had rendered Duo unconscious. The shot struck true, and the man fell to the ground dead instantly.

The remaining three attackers, panicked, grabbed Duo and Draco's limp hands. Heero took aim and fired, but he was too late when the three attackers -along with Duo and Draco- popped out of existence.

_No_...

He felt more than saw the old man's approach behind him. He could hear teachers murmuring worriedly amongst themselves, taking in the bodies of the dead and dying on the ground and Heero Yuy standing in the middle of it.

"Duo took out those four before they overpowered him," Heero said flatly, not even bothering to lift his eyes from where he saw Duo disappear, as if willing his boyfriend back into existence by sheer testament alone. "Duo and the Malfoy boy have been taken."

"Damn it," Heero heard Harry mutter desolately. "Professor, we've got to do something!"

"That we do, my boy," the old man said solemnly. "First and foremost, we must have the children gather in the Great Hall immediately in case this isn't the last attack on the students. The muggle delegates must be sent home immediately, as well."

Heero glared at the old man. "And what about Duo?"

Dumbledore appeared regretful... but that wasn't enough. "I'm afraid, Mr. Yuy... that Mr. Maxwell is, regrettably, on his own until we can find out where they've been taken."

"Which means you'll do _nothing_," Heero said, his anger seeping into his voice. The man lied; Duo wasn't on his own. Duo would never be on his own.

Heero didn't take kindly to people hurting his friends. The fact that it was his lover who was taken only served to piss him off further because Heero Yuy was not one to take such offenses lightly.

It was time to regroup and plot the rescue mission. And if one hair on Duo's head was hurt... Heero would _make them pay._

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**_


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty Two**_

The land between unconsciousness and waking was not unchartered territory for the sixth year Gryffindor.

First came tactile property -a strange, numbing tingle in his fingers and toes that swept quickly over his limbs and torso, causing him to feel slightly disjointed with the rest of the world. After feeling generally came olfactory perception. The air was stiff, stale, and smelled of mildew and something else that was a bit alliaceous. After smell came auditory sensation. His sensitive ears picked up soft footsteps muffled by walls and nonsense murmurs, words he couldn't quite decipher over the rushing of his own blood in his head. Gustatory sensation was next; besides having to almost consciously remind himself that, no, his tongue wasn't super-glued to the roof of his mouth, besides a bad case of morning breath, the taste in his mouth was surprisingly drug-free. Visual modality -poor. It was too dark to distinguish much of anything, even for eyes as sharp as his.

Finally came memory.

Belatedly Duo realized that, yeah, he probably should have stayed in bed that morning.

_They weren't after Harry._

Of course they weren't. While Duo had done his best to get Harry out of Hogsmeade while the going was good, he'd realized that all of the thrown curses and hexes weren't meant for Harry at all. It didn't make sense; Harry was supposed to be numero uno on Mr. Big and Bad's shit list. So why had the Boy Who Lived been put on the back burner?

_They were after me._

But why?

_Why me? What did I do to put myself on Voldemort's list of Students He'd Like To Kidnap and Possibly Torture? I haven't voiced any strong opinions against him, nor have I said anything that could translate as me being pro-Death Eater, so he can't possibly hope to recruit me. Maybe... he thinks I'm teetering on the line?_

_No. No, Voldemort wouldn't take his chances on a supposed child who wasn't sure of his allegiance. Perhaps... A spy from Voldemort's faction of little potential Death Eater Juniors? The screening process is murder; I can't see how any potential spy aside from Trowa could get through that... and even then, Trowa would have to break a mental sweat just to get past the first round. Those guys are more paranoid than **Heero**..._

A horrible thought struck Duo like a physical blow. _Does he know... about Gundams?_

Shit.

Just the **idea** that Voldemort was potentially aware of such muggle means of attack pounded home the fact that Duo needed to get away or die trying. **Quick**.

_Step 1: Assess the situation._

He listened carefully before he dared to move, his breathing even and heavy, reminiscent of a deep sleep. Besides his own breathing and heartbeat, he heard nothing to indicate there was anyone in the room with him. That didn't rule out any magical means of spying, which Duo belatedly realized he should have probably looked into possible ways to counter such measures while he was at Hogwarts. _Too late now..._ He'd just have to take his chance and hope these guys were all about quantity instead of quality when it came to intelligence.

_Step 2: Look for potential weapons._

He already knew without looking that they took his wand; however, wizards were strangely close-minded against more "primitive" muggle ways of defending oneself, or using foreign objects as Bludgeoning Tools of Death. Messy, loud... but useful in a tricky situation. Unfortunately, Duo had to rely on tactile sensory more than visual modality, and he found very little in ways of weapons. His lock picks were in his hair; if he could somehow break the leg of the chair in the corner without drawing attention...

A thought struck him. Of course! He tried to make his movements appear casual in case he was being watched. In the leg of his boot, he pulled out a small gun with a full clip already in place. His fingers went to the heel, sliding the barely visible panel from the sole of his boot and stealing away two clips of ammo in his spacious pockets. From the folds of his other boot, he found his treasured silencer, and he eagerly screwed the device onto the gun. His secreted scythe was also where he left it strapped to his forearm. _Score!_

Right. He was armed, but he was sure there were spells that could stop bullets. He'd have to rely more on stealth and the element of surprise for that.

At least he was armed. One gun, silencer, three clips of modified ammo, and his untested scythe.

_Are you really willing to kill again?_

The thought gave him a moment's pause. Over a year. It had been exactly seventeen months since he last took a life. It was something he could be proud of, for once. Did he want to give up that one thing that he'd been able to cope with after the Eves War? The idea that he would never again have to take human life... Did he want to give that up?

No. No he didn't.

But taking into consideration the sheer amount of innocent lives the Death Eaters had stolen away as if it were their given right, to steal away the lives of men, women, and children who were only targeted because some fascistic view on the purity of blood demanded that they were unfit to live.

Did he want to kill again? No. Was he going to? Yes, he was. He already had, in fact.

Peace could never be obtained without the loss of life... and Duo was willing to bloody his hands so that someone else didn't need to in order to preserve the delicate peace.

_Step 3: Plan for escape and hopeful retraction from enemy territory._

----------

"01, status."

"They have the castle on full alert," came the quiet reply. "Armed guards at the main entrance of the Great Hall and Hogwarts itself -numbering four, sometimes six. Twelve Aurors and six of what appears to be some kind of rebel faction working against the enemy are sweeping through the school for stray students. Three Aurors and two non-military personnel stationed near the Infirmary. The rebels are Dumbledore's -they go to him for orders. Dumbledore seems to have some of his men infiltrated into the Auror guards. From what I've been able to garner, there is a small faction numbering from twenty to fifty en route."

"03, casualties."

"None." The tall green-eyed boy leaned against the pillar all four pilots had reclined against, eyes closing as he crossed his arms in silent deliberation. "Two missing."

"02 and Draco Malfoy."

"Yes." Heero bowed his head for a moment, exhaling steadily so as not to show weakness to his companions. _Duo, how you manage to always get yourself into these messes..._

"05, report."

"I was nearby when 02 and Malfoy were attacked," the Chinese boy said quietly. "Four Disapparated after they managed to put out the flames of one enemy's robes. I was on my way to take care of the stragglers when I stopped to attempt to revive a woman who appeared to be rendered unconscious. The enemy appeared to be targeting 02; everyone seems to think the enemy was after Potter."

Nearby. God, aid was _that_ close...

"Conclusion?"

"None satisfactory," Wufei said grimly, his eyes focusing on several first year students that seemed to be absolutely terrified at the very idea that the Dark Lord would be targeting Hogwarts next. "Either Maxwell made a mistake and said the wrong thing to the wrong person -unlikely- or the enemy has heard tales of our actions during the war. Maxwell is the most recognizable amongst us. His abduction could have been something close to convenience."

"Is there any way the enemy could forcibly convince 02 to take action against us?"

"Physically?" Wufei snorted derisively. "Maxwell is too hard-headed for that. Magically, however... I've been doing extensive research for weeks. There are possibly dozens of spells and potions that could effectively brainwash anyone of us to join the other side. Most of them have been labeled as Dark."

"The Unforgivable?"

Wufei shook his head with the barest of movement. "Not possible. 02 is too strong-willed to have his mind overtaken by another. We all are."

"Too stubborn to let someone else have control," Quatre said with a soft sigh, leaning closer to Trowa for comfort. The silent boy grasped the loose sleeve of his lover's robes; it was as close as the two ever got to holding hands in public. The state of affairs was far too dangerous for either of them to risk the chance of being used against one another in the event of a hostage situation.

Though Heero wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was envious of that moment and wished Duo was there, where the stoic pilot of Wing could see him, grinning mischievously, the plans of his next big prank forming behind his amethyst eyes. The Japanese boy firmly shook away that desire -Duo needed him to be clearheaded and able to focus on the extraction from enemy territory.

"And Draco Malfoy?"

"Oddly enough," Trowa murmured, "Draco Malfoy resisted being taken. That suggests what we've been told by the rest of Gryffindor House, as we originally thought, was nothing but rivalry hype."

"Should we tell Dumbledore about the tracer spells?" Quatre broached the subject cautiously, not even glancing at the old man at the head of the hall, speaking quietly with Remus Lupin. Heero narrowed his eyes at the man; he'd seen Lupin a number of times, always accompanied by his loyal companion. The large mongrel was no where to be seen.

The tracer spells. Though all of them had deemed the spells necessary, Heero had always hoped that it was just a result of a soldier's paranoia that called for them. Wufei had been the one to introduce the concept after the Chinese boy had come across the information in the library, and Duo was possibly the biggest supporter of having the spells implicated. "A paranoid soldier is a breathing soldier," was the braided boy's quip, but they all could see that Duo was actually very serious about it. Theoretically, when the secondary incantation were spoken after the primary spells were in place, they would automatically be led in the precise direction of the one who was missing.

Wufei quickly shot down the idea of informing the Headmaster. "Dumbledore is out of the question," he said lowly, keeping his voice even so as not to draw attention. "The man treats this as a chess game. Potter is the piece that will win his game, but Maxwell was an unknown variant to him. He has made no plans to rescue 02 and Malfoy at all."

"I would rather have more skilled wizards on our rescue endeavor," Heero said stiffly, hiding a grimace. He didn't like admitting that, while he'd been excelling in all of his classes, he was only a novice to these magic tricks. "Potter would feel responsible, and he appears to be a very powerful wizard compared to his peers, but he has no restraint. Granger appears to be his calming influence, but 02 worries that her biased knowledge would impair her judgement. Weasley is competent and loyal, but he's even more brash than Potter is."

"Let's not forget that Potter is also the Dark Lord's biggest threat," Quatre pointed out quietly. "We should keep him out -Duo mentioned that there is some sort of destiny that dictates that Harry would be the only one capable of defeating the Dark Lord."

"What about Snuffles?"

Heero wouldn't have been surprised if the comment had come from Wufei as a jest. What surprised him was the fact that it came from Trowa, and he sounded completely serious. "The _dog_?"

"Duo is always claiming that if Snuffles is a dog, he would eat his hat," Trowa explained evenly. "I tend to agree with 02 on that. The dog is entirely too intelligent to be what he is pretending to be. I believe he is an Animagus, like McGonagall. Snuffles shows a remarkable fondness for Potter -perhaps he will volunteer if we promise to keep Potter out of this little operation."

"Or a notion of owing Maxwell for protecting Potter at the risk of himself, as they are led to believe," Wufei added thoughtfully. "These wizards -they take honor very seriously. Even the Dark ones honor their debts to others."

"And Lupin?"

"Unknown," Heero replied with a shrug. "The man seems fiercely loyal to Dumbledore. I do not think it wise to test that loyalty."

"The dog is too much of an unknown variant," Wufei said after a moment of thought. "If we want to do anything right, we'll have to do it ourselves. We're not so dependant on magic that we cannot extract one of our own from a hostile enemy."

"A hostile enemy with magic," Quatre pointed out. "Can we go against something magical with a so-called muggle approach?"

"We'll have to be more cautious," Trowa murmured, "and use what we know. I believe we can manage this alone if we combine our magical knowledge with our training."

"Wufei, you should be able to handle their magical defenses and our magical offense, right?" Quatre asked. "You've spent more time in the books than we have. I heard Flitwick tell Hooch that amongst the four of us, you've progressed the most in your education."

"I have a few spells in mind," Wufei admitted with a stiff nod. "Mission accepted."

"Good. Trowa, can you find a way to maybe help us sneak away from here and out of the anti-apparating charms?"

"I have a good idea," Trowa murmured absently. "I'll need to persuade Potter of something before I can come up with anything concrete."

"Tell him enough to satisfy his curiosity," Heero warned, "but not enough to give him an actual idea as to what we're up to. Potter's just the type of heroic fool that dives in head first without thinking of the consequences."

"I might not have to tell him anything," Trowa mused aloud. "Mission accepted."

"All right," Quatre said. "We leave tonight, activate the tracer charm, and take it from there." He leaned heavily against the pillar, eyes sliding closed. "It's not the best of plans, but it's the only one we have. This is a wing-it mission, guys, and as much as it irks me, we're flying by the seat of our pants on this one."

----------

"Those boys are up to something."

"I would be more surprised if they were not," Albus replied quietly to Remus' comment, not even sparing a glance for the huddled mixture of friends. "The loyalty they show towards one another is remarkable. We can only hope that what they are planning is not in vain."

"Albus?" Remus questioned softly. "You can't be thinking that it would be alright to allow them to simply leave the safety of Hogwarts to go against Voldemort, of all wizards. That's insane! They're just children!"

The wizen man looked thoughtful as he considered his goblet of wine absently. "If there has been anything I've learned from having those five in my school for these few months, Remus, it is that they are not normal students. More people would do well to model themselves after them, in fact.

"They have Quatre Winner -a brilliant strategist, their unofficial leader, and the embodiment of what they strive to fight for, whatever their agenda may be. Quatre has the makings of a great politician, and I've no doubt that, should he pursue that career, he would be the best Minister of Magic the wizarding world could hope for. He is fair, hard-working, loyal, and, most importantly, crafty in his ways.

"Chang Wufei is the warrior and the scholar -a rare combination of learning and strength. Where most students would simply worry about how they would finish their next essay, or how their next exam would go, Wufei has been diligently learning the necessary wizarding skills to apply to what he knows how to do. He's been adapting both dueling and fighting where most would never think to combine the two.

"Trowa Barton is their spy. While Quatre has been keeping tabs on everything that is above the table, Trowa has been fruitfully studying and participating in all of the underhanded politics amongst the students. True, it took me quite some time to realize what the boy was up to, which should only prove just how seriously he takes his duty to those he considers his family.

"And Heero..." Dumbledore fell silent, thoughtfully studying his goblet of wine with a faraway glint in his normally bright, twinkling eyes.

"What about Mr. Yuy?" Remus asked quietly.

Dumbledore smiled finally. "Heero has finally learned how to truly love. And I doubt, with everything in my heart, that he would allow his chance at love to slip away." He favored his former student with a genteel smile.

"Did I ever tell you about when I first met Heero, Remus?"

Remus started at the seemingly sudden turn in the conversation. "I... I don't believe so, Albus."

"He reminded me of a boy I once grew up with. In fact, one could say this same boy was a very good friend of mine." Dumbledore sighed. "The same mannerisms, the very same ways of dealing with his emotions... suppressing what he did not think was important, or useful. In the end, he was consumed by his convictions and became the very man I defeated half a century ago..."

Remus blinked. "The Dark Lord Grindelwald..."

"The very same," Dumbledore said quietly. "The difference is that my friend never learned to open his heart, while Heero has finally decided he no longer has need of those barricades. The presence of his steadfast friends has taught him that much -as well as the influence of the one who has managed to ensnare his heart.

"So you see, Remus, there is no one else in this castle that I would be able to expect to do what I know those four young men will succeed at."

And, unknown to either man, the large but strangely silent dog slipped away, padding after the same topic of discussion as the Japanese boy slipped out of the Great Hall.

----------

"You disappoint me, Draco."

The Malfoy heir resisted the urge to flinch under those softly spoken words, said by a man he had admired and attempted to imitate for most of his short life. No matter his chosen allegiance to his own life, he cared for his father, and desired to have his father's pride.

His father's disappointment was a harsh blow to Draco's ego.

The Malfoy heir knew exactly where he was -his lavish bedroom suite in Malfoy Manor, just outside of Madrid Shire. To anyone who didn't know better, it appeared Draco was offered all the comforts of a guest. Draco knew differently. Before his father had arrived, the door had been locked, and the window would not slide open no matter how much he forced it. He was a prisoner here. Just a comfortable prisoner.

"Father..."

"Why did you resist?"

Draco could have claimed that he hadn't wanted Dumbledore's little sycophants to see him go willingly, but his father was sharper than that; the man always seemed to know when Draco lied, no matter how good the Malfoy heir was at it. As much as he detested the thought of telling the truth, he realized that now was probably as good of a time as any.

He refused to show weakness by bowing meekly and mumbling; his father would never take him seriously if he did that. Instead, he raised his head and met Lucius Malfoy's disapproving blue eyes brazenly, a confident tilt to his head as he replied strongly, "I resisted because I don't like the implication that I'm to become more than just a follower to the Dark Lord."

Lucius' eyes flashed dangerously. "So you would rather be 'just a follower', son? I taught you better than that."

_Look at the example I'm given_, Draco retorted mentally. _What are you, Father, but a mere follower? You may be in his inner circle, but you by no means have as much freedom as you lead me to believe_. "No, Father, and that's the problem. I am not a follower."

Lucius raised an eyebrow casually. "So when you hear of these supposed rumors of you becoming more than just a follower, more than just a Death Eater... you resist? That's nonsense, Draco."

"I don't know what the Dark Lord wants from me," Draco said softly, "but I want no part of it."

"He wants you to be his heir."

Draco wanted to deny his father's claim, but suddenly he was struck with doubt. It couldn't be that simple. It just couldn't. Why him? Why would Voldemort chose Draco to be his heir? But...

No. No, it couldn't be that.

"He lied to you," Draco said firmly.

Lucius looked at Draco sharply. "Don't take that tone with me, son. The Dark Lord told me himself that he wishes you to be his heir -that should please you, not make you rebel against him."

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" Draco asked. "There's more to it than that."

"That's ridiculous," Lucius snapped, standing from his seat. "In two hours, I will come back to take you to the Dark Lord. I want you to spend that time alone thinking about what's more important -these crackpot rumors, or your honor in being the heir of the most powerful wizard alive."

Knowing that his father was going to deliver him to Voldemort made his blood freeze in his veins. "Father, please-" But the man was already at the door, leaving. "Father! Listen to me!"

The door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place, the sound of it echoing around the large room.

"_Damn it!_" Draco screamed, throwing the nearest object -in this case, an oil lamp- at the door, the sound of the glass shattering and the lamp clattering loudly to the floor strangely unsatisfying to his ears. He threw himself on the couch and sat there, slumped, face in his hands as he felt the urge to cry or scream or even vomit nearly overcome him.

Suddenly, the lock clicked again. Draco jerked, staring at the door wearily. Had his father come back to finally listen to him? Was there actually such a thing as hope?

The door creaked open, revealing the figure of one Duo Maxwell. Maxwell smirked at him, two long, thin, small metal things in his left hand as he stared at Draco in bemusement.

"Well," Duo said wryly, "this presents a bit of a problem, doesn't it? Looks like I'm not the only idiot here against my will." He raised his eyebrows suggestively around the comfortable room. "How come you get the nice digs? My cell smelled like an old pantry. 'Bout as small as one, too."

"Duo?" Draco questioned slowly, standing up. "What... How?..."

"Think you can help me find my way out of here?" the American said, leaning against the doorframe casually. "I mean, it _is_ your family coat of arms plastered all over the damn place."

Draco jumped at the chance. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"That's the spirit!"

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**_


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty Three**_

In one of the many empty, darkened corridors of the noble manor of Malfoy, the shadows shifted silently.

"Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?"

"Why do I get the feeling you haven't?" was the nearly silent retort as one boy cautiously peered around the corner. "Could it be because you suck at it? Which way?"

"I've never had to sneak around my own home before!"

"Shh! Which way, Blondie, time's a-tickin'!"

"Left." Draco Malfoy followed the nimble and silent sneak as quietly as he could, dismayed that, even though he knew the mansion backwards and forwards, Duo Maxwell still managed to avoid every potential (and proverbial, because the mansion didn't _have_ wooden floors) creak and scuffle, causing Draco to feel like a bogtrodding elephant next to him.

Maxwell was like a cat. A _lethal_ cat. Strangely, this only seemed to remind Draco that his traitorous feline was pregnant with Granger's mangy cat's offspring, which put him in an even worse mood... if that was possible.

"Do you even have your wand?"

"Something like it," Duo whispered back, coming to another corridor. He checked both directions carefully, peering into the darkened corridors before glancing at Draco expectantly.

"Right." Nodding sharply, Maxwell took his advice and went right, sticking closely to the wall. Draco followed his example. "We'll want to take the servants' stairs," the Malfoy heir murmured, managing to shove down his distaste for having to do anything of the sort. "The main stairwell is too open."

"Yeah, I figured that much," Duo whispered. "What floor are we on?"

"Second." Draco thought being held on the second floor was a stroke of good fortune; it would have taken twice as long to escape were they on any other floor, and especially so if they'd been locked in one of the towers. His announcement, however, made Duo frown, his brows furrowing in thought. "What?"

"Nothing... Bit of a disadvantage, is all. Stay close."

"Tell me again why being on the second floor puts us at a disadvantage?"

"They know we're escaping."

Draco hesitated in his step, blinking. "What?"

"They know we're escaping," Duo said quietly. "They were banking on it, I wager. I saw the tower outside your window, and they could have easily locked either one of us up there. This is nothing more than a scare tactic to see how desperate we can get close to freedom."

"Wait, stop," Draco hissed, wracking his brain to think of an alternative escape plan.

"No, we keep going," Duo hissed back, peeking around another dark corridor that only led one way.

"You can't honestly expect to just walk into a trap," Draco said incredulously. "What's the point if we're just going to be caught again?"

"I don't back down. Ever," Duo whispered tightly. "Now shut up and do as I say, Dragon Boy."

Draco wanted to argue. Since when had Duo been the expert on being sly and sneaky, anyway? However, it was clear that Duo _was_ an expert; merely observing the way the American peered cautiously around every corner and nook as he silently and swiftly crept down the corridor was enough to squelch Draco's urge to scoff at the Gryffindor and do exactly what he was told to do instead.

So he shut up and followed the Gryffindor's lead.

----------

Trowa was a man on a mission. His current objective? To sneak into the Gryffindor dorms undetected, borrow something of Harry's without asking, and leave that same dorm just as quietly as he'd entered.

It was as easy as done.

The first part of the plan had been to sneak out of the Great Hall without being seen by any of their makeshift guardians, which was fairly simple considering how the students outnumbered the adults twenty to one. Too many were spread too thin as both Aurors and school personnel comforted some of the more hysterical students, leaving Trowa to slip out of the Great Hall only moments before Heero was to do so, as well. However, while Trowa would be going to Gryffindor Tower, Heero's mission objective was to grab their supplies from Slytherin Tower.

He then had to make his way to Gryffindor Tower without being detected by the outer guard patrolling the hallway; again, they were making this way too easy for him. The corridors, large, wide, spacious and made of stone seemed to echo at the slightest of shuffles. When it came to stealth, Duo was always their best candidate; however, Trowa had always been a close second in that department. He used the echoing corridors against the patrolling Aurors, effortlessly masking any sound he could make as he soundlessly darted from corridor to corridor and up endless flights of stairs. There was a point in time where he was almost caught on the stairwell with nowhere to go, voices from the top of the stairs clearly indicating he had at least three Aurors or some of Dumbledore's faction that were chatting rather amiably; he could see none of them, which was an advantage at that point, since the angle did not allow them to see him either.

He neatly flipped himself over the stone supports that prevented the more clumsy students from falling over the edge, scuttling far enough to lift his leg and find the overhanging side on the bottom. It was a minor quality about the stairs that he'd noticed about the school, neatly filing the architect into the back of his mind. All of the stairs had overhanging sides and a small niche in which someone could neatly fit his body if he were hiding. Most would not dare to even try it, but Trowa wasn't one to ignore an opportunity. Hanging several hundred feet above the floor, he wedged himself in that niche, pressing his hands and feet against the edge tightly so as not to fall. The process took all of five seconds, and he only had to maintain his position for a minute more as the guards descended the stairs and disappeared down another corridor.

He waited for a moment before he quickly extracted himself and crawled back over the support and onto solid stone. Caution dictated that he should have waited longer, but he was unwilling to risk the chance of the stairs shifting on him unexpectedly. Trowa had spent a little of his time memorizing the patterns in which certain main stairwells would shift, and if he wasn't mistaken, the staircase would go to the left, taking him down a corridor that would have forced him to take twice as long in getting to the Gryffindor dorms.

With only a few more corridors, Trowa stood in front of the portrait that guarded the Gryffindor Tower.

"Ah! Trowa, how good of you to come," Lilah -or as most of the students called her, the 'Fat Lady'- greeted him cheerfully, having taken a shine to him when he actually engaged in what passed for conversation for Trowa. His caution for all people and things he interacted with prompt him to greet her and ask for her name. She'd taken that as an invitation to talk to him whenever he came by the dorms, declaring him fit to enter her domain, even if he wasn't a Gryffindor; Trowa suspected she appreciated his tendency to listen without interrupting whatever the rant of the day was.

"Hello, Lilah," Trowa said simply.

"Why, aren't you supposed to be in the Great Hall with the other students?" Lilah said, looking down at the Slytherin knowingly. "You'll be in a lot of trouble for sneaking out, young man."

"I won't be if I don't get caught," Trowa replied evenly, immediately deciding to appeal to Lilah's unrivaled urge to gossip. "Have you heard? Several students have been abducted. One of them is in your house."

Lilah was absolutely scandalized. "Oh, my! I do hope Albus is planning to rectify that!"

Trowa doubted it, but he didn't voice his doubt. "I need to get in the dorm, Lilah -there's something in there that might help find Duo."

"You know I can't let you in without a password, dear boy. It's house protocol."

Trowa resisted the urge to smirk. Of course he knew the password; it was easy to overhear such things when one wasn't noticed. "Scarlet honor."

Lilah smiled benevolently. "Always observant, that Trowa Barton," she murmured to herself before the portrait clicked and swung open. He was in.

_And now_, he thought to himself as he crawled through the portrait hole, _to find Harry's map_.

----------

Sirius Black, more commonly known as Snuffles, was Gryffindor to the core. To him, that meant he was brave, honorable, and willing to stand up for what he believed in. To someone like Draco Malfoy, he was reckless, blind to his own faults, and nosy as hell.

It was that 'nosy as hell' part that had overtaken him at this point. Sirius loved a good mystery; there was nothing more satisfying than gathering the clues to figure out the mystery, whether the conclusions drawn were correct or not. And there was nothing more curious then a handful of new students with odd mannerisms that had somehow wormed their ways into Albus' fond regard, especially when Sirius couldn't recall any of them doing anything fantastic to deserve that respect.

He had overheard Albus telling Remus to have faith in the boys, as if the renowned wizard was confident that they could save their friend before Voldemort could harm him. He'd seen one of the Slytherins -Yuy, if Sirius remembered right- slip from the Hall unnoticed, and his first instinct was to follow. And Sirius always obeyed that first instinct.

He crept after Yuy at a distance, but close enough to guess where the Slytherin was heading -the Slytherin dormitory. At first, it appeared as if the boy wasn't paying attention to his surroundings at all as he went down to the dungeons, but Sirius quickly realized that looks were deceiving; the boy seemed to tense before slipping into a dark corner behind one of Hogwarts' many suits of armor. Seconds later, an unsuspecting member of the Order rounded the corner and unwittingly passed by the boy, sparing only a cursory glance at Sirius, who had settled on his hunches behind a statue of Ulric the Oddball. Yuy didn't leave the safety of his nook until Jorgan was out of sight, purposefully making a beeline for the blank wall that marked the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory.

The boy murmured the password under his breath, standing back as the wall slid to the side. Sirius waited for as long as he could stand it before he hastily trotted to the entrance only moments after the boy had slipped through, making it inside as soon as the wall started to slide back into place.

_So this is enemy territory_, Sirius thought, sparing a look toward the confining corridor that led into a rather elegantly (but darkly) decorated room that had to be the common room. He almost missed the sight of Yuy disappearing down a staircase that must have led to the boys' dormitory, but he wasn't worried. His senses as a dog were heightened greatly; even if he'd lost sight of Yuy, he'd still be able to pick out his scent.

He treaded the staircase carefully until the scent branched off into a corridor while the staircase seemed to lead even further down. He followed his nose to a door that was cracked only slightly, the dim light leaking through the crack an indication that someone was in the room. He nosed the door further open, almost sighing in relief when the hinges didn't squeal in protest as he thought they would.

The Slytherin boy was emptying out a trunk, carefully placing school books, clothes, and clean sheets of parchment to the side. Once there appeared to be nothing left in the trunk, the boy reached in and pulled out a long, cloth-covered board from the bottom. _A false bottom?_

That's when the boy pulled out something even more curious; five miniature figures of what appeared to be robots that Sirius vaguely remembered Tonks ranting about exuberantly some time ago. The figures appeared to be small toy replicas of those robot things.

Yuy replaced the bottom of his trunk before placing his other things back inside, leaving the toys out. There had to be something more to it. The boy couldn't have gone to all of this trouble just for some toys to comfort him, especially when it was his boyfriend who was missing. Maybe those things weren't as harmless as they appeared...

But Sirius didn't have a lot of time to ponder over that when the boy shut his trunk with a firm click, picking up his wand to cast several wards over it. Then the boy was standing, and Sirius was just about to duck back out of the room when Yuy cooly lifted his wand and turned, pointing it right at Sirius.

Sirius almost froze automatically before he remembered that he was a dog, and dogs weren't supposed to notice when they were being threatened with wands. When dogs saw wands, they saw sticks that could be potential for a game of fetch. He allowed his tongue to loll out innocently as he wagged his tail in faked anticipation, his human side screaming at him in the typically fight or flight fashion.

"I'm not an idiot," the boy said coldly, "just like you're not a dog."

Shit. Did Harry tell him? Sirius vaguely remembered that Harry hung around with those new students a fair bit, but he never thought his godson would trust them enough to tell them about Sirius' Animagus status, much less _why_ Sirius had to go around as a dog named Snuffles. He tilted his head to the side, as if asking the boy, "What are you talking about?"

Yuy wasn't buying it, judging by the ever-narrowing Prussian blue eyes. "Transform before I render you incapable of doing so."

With a vile curse in the back of his mind, Sirius transformed. He matched Yuy's glare with one of his own. "Did Harry tell you?"

"Hn," the boy snorted. "You did. Normal dogs react to tone and body language. You responded to my words while carefully choosing to ignore both my tone and body language, both of which clearly implied that I am a threat."

Damn Slytherins.

"Who are you?" Yuy demanded, his wand unwavering.

"Sirius Black," Sirius responded reluctantly, waiting for the instant recognition. Yuy didn't even blink, and Sirius thought he could get away from this mess relatively Ministry-free.

"The convict." Those two words immediately spoiled any thought of Sirius not having to explain anything more than his name.

"Sent to Azkaban for the death of twelve muggles and one Peter Pettigrew; the only sign that he'd even been there was by witness testimony and a single finger," the boy said flatly. "You were sent to Azkaban without a trial, but one thing that most people don't know about was that you were the Potters' Secret Keeper."

"I'm innocent," Sirius muttered, wanting to cross his arms defensively but knowing this might be a bad move.

"I know."

That admission surprised Sirius. "How could you know? Most of the wizarding world thinks I'm guilty!"

Yuy smirked. "You told me. You were supposed to have betrayed the Potters, but Harry Potter clearly knows that you aren't just a dog; you so much as admitted it yourself. You were also sent to Azkaban on insufficient evidence; the Ministry relied on witness testimony, which can always be misinterpreted. If I had been James Potter, I would have declared my Secret Keeper as one person while using another friend without anyone knowing. Also, the spell Prior Incantantum was never cast on your original wand. The likelihood of a body being obliterated is inconsistent with the existence of one part appearing relatively unscathed -in this case, a severed finger- especially when the point of detachment was very clean and methodical." The Japanese boy lifted his chin in an almost arrogant manner. "Sloppy."

Sirius couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Now why couldn't you have been born thirty years ago so you could have pointed out these things then?"

"Because the concept of fairness doesn't apply to reality," the boy said evenly.

If not for twelve years of Azkaban that opened his eyes to this fact, Sirius might have argued with the boy on that point. He knew better now; fairness really did have nothing to do with how the world worked.

"So now what?" Sirius said, still conscious of the wand that was pointed directly at his chest.

"Now you tell me whether you followed me to help or hinder," Yuy said.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You meant for me to see you. You... wanted me to follow you, didn't you?"

Yuy smirked again. Sirius could really come to hate that overconfident smirk.

Why did Sirius follow the boy? Because Sirius Black was a nosy son of a bitch who liked to have his fingers in everyone's pie. Sirius Black liked to be in the know. And, most importantly, Sirius Black hated to sit back and do nothing. He hated being ignored or protected, preferring to be where the action was.

Hindering the boy, he felt, would not lead him anywhere remotely near the action, especially when Yuy had Albus' silent approval.

"To help, of course," Sirius said with a casual shrug. "Can't let a bunch of newbies face off against a bunch of Death Eaters. Wouldn't be sporting."

Yuy nodded sharply, finally lowering his wand. "Then meet us outside of Hogsmeade in forty-five minutes. And bring a broom."

----------

Meanwhile, Duo Maxwell and Draco Malfoy were in a bit of a pickle.

Their escape had been going smoothly, which didn't do anything to relieve Duo in any way. In fact, the lack of conflict had made him even more nervous, and rightly so. By the time they'd carefully treaded down the servants' stairs and made their cautious way through more ominous corridors, their freedom was just in sight.

Somehow Duo had known that their good fortune wouldn't last.

_Death Eater to the front of me_, Duo thought grimly, not even deeming it necessary to glance over his shoulder to see the two Death Eaters covering his back, _and Death Eaters at the back of me. Fuck._

"Dad," Draco yelped, his face ashen as he stared wide-eyed at the chill-faced blond man that blocked their front; beyond him, Duo could see the tantalizing sight of their only exit.

Now, at this time, there were two parts of Duo. There was Friend Duo, who morally and consciously realized that the measures to which he was about to resort for that freedom were just bad manners, as far as friendship went. And then there was Soldier Duo, the cool pragmatic who would go to any extreme when he was backed into a corner. The two rarely mixed company, and with the very brief internal struggle that went on within him, he was more than happy to keep them separate in the future. However, in this case, Soldier Duo promptly hogtied and gagged Friend Duo just before taking the driver's seat.

"Oh, met?" Duo said casually, swiftly gliding closer to Draco, getting to the point where he was actually behind the stunned Malfoy heir. Then his arm was wrapping around Draco's neck in a gentle but firm headlock, and the barrel of his gun was pressed oh-so-very close to Draco's right temple. Using Draco's brief surprise, he swiftly turned to where his own back was facing the wall in order to see both Death Eaters behind him, as well as the elder Malfoy to the front.

"What the hell-?" Draco sputtered.

Duo cocked the gun, immediately silencing Draco. Even if the pureblood wizard didn't know what the strange muggle weapon pressed close to his temple would actually do to him, the sound of such a thing was universally heart-stopping.

"Well," Duo said cheerfully, his gaze flying from the two Death Eaters to the elder Malfoy and back again carefully. "We're at a bit of an impasse, don'cha think?"

The elder Malfoy narrowed his eyes, his wand almost deceptively lowered at his side. "What do you think you're doing, boy?"

"You should know, right? Being a Death Eater and all. I'm using my resources to my advantage. Example -I'm armed. My weapon is pressed against the head of your only son and heir. Considering that same weapon has a hairtrigger, I wouldn't make any sudden moves, if I were you -the human skull is so very delicate. At this range, my buddy's brains will be displayed very nicely all over this bust beside me. So, let's play a game called Duo Says. Very simple game, mind you -you do as I say, and my buddy Draco here lives to see the sun rise. Got me?"

One of the Death Eaters to the right of him snorted derisively. "He's bluffing. That's not even a wand!"

Duo smirked coldly. "I know exactly seven hundred and twenty-three ways to kill a man with my bare hands alone, and I've only used approximately half of them. Unlike your sorry ass, I don't _need_ a wand to do my dirty work. Try me."

"Maxwell," Draco mumbled lowly.

"Now's not the time to distract me, Draco," Duo said kindly. "No hard feelings, right?"

"Are you _serious_?" Draco hissed. "You kill me, and I'm haunting you, Maxwell -haunting you for _life_!"

"Wouldn't be any different from any other guy I've killed, man, but if it's any consolation, I'd really regret killing you," Duo replied. "I try to make it a habit to not kill my friends."

"Then keep trying!"

"Your dad and his friends aren't really giving me that option right now, man," Duo muttered. He caught the sudden movement at the corner of his eye, and his arm whipped around, his finger squeezing down just in time for the muffled blast to ring out. The mask adorning the Death Eater's face cracked, blood exploding from the back of his head as his limp, lifeless corpse slumped listlessly to the ground.

The gun was back at Draco's temple again, not quite pressing into his skin, but close enough to where Draco could feel the sudden heat from the barrel.

"Duo didn't say he could move," Duo said coldly, all kindness drained from his voice. "Consider yourself lucky that I pointed this gun at that poor sap more out of reflex than anything else, Mr. Malfoy, or your son would have been very, very dead."

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**_


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty-Four**_

Draco was in a state of mind-numbing panic. Panic wasn't something that a Malfoy should ever display in public; his father had told him that often enough. It was a sign of weakness and uncertainty -and 'weak' and 'uncertain' were two things a Malfoy definitely was not.

But he had some pretty good reasons for feeling panicked, especially to the degree to which he honestly thought he'd have nightmares. For one, a man he had known had just been killed. For another, the person who killed Jansen was his friend. And lastly, that same friend had the same object he used to kill his father's friend pressed ever-so-lightly against his very own temple.

Draco Malfoy wasn't only in a state of panic. He was held within the very grasp of gut-wrenching fright, silently begging his stubborn sire to just _back down_ for once. It was never okay to piss off the teenager who didn't have a problem with killing people. Especially when it was _his_ bloody life on the line!

"Jansen?" McNair said in shock, staring down at the lifeless corpse in shock. "Bloody hell -he's just killed Jansen!"

Duo... smiled. "Further proof that a vague disclaimer is nobody's friend."

"I can see that," Lucius Malfoy said evenly, his slate grey eyes never leaving his son. "Though I find myself doubting a Gryffindor would go to such extremes as killing his own friend."

_Oh, HELL._ "If I were in your position, Dad, I'd be thinking the very same thing," Draco said nervously, careful not to make any sudden movement to make that thing explode from the end again. "But Duo's not quite like other Gryffindors, and he's remarkably Slytherin when he needs to be. Don't test him." _Or I'm DEAD. Dead, dead, DEAD. As in, not living. No longer alive. Not moving, not breathing, lifeless..._

Draco needed to stop his own internal monologue. He really was working himself into a state of frenzy.

"That's probably the nicest thing you could say about me, Dragon Boy," Duo said in a tone that _sounded_ like he was teasing, but Draco doubted the American had lost that edge in his eyes.

Draco could see the gears working behind his father's flat eyes. Finally, the elder Malfoy said quietly, "And how can we come to agreeable terms that will spare my son, yet satisfy my master, Mr. Maxwell?"

"I don't really care about satisfying your master, man," Duo said casually. "It goes my way, or no way at all for you. See, you could refuse to let us go, and then I would be forced to kill your son. Then I'd be left without a hostage, and I'd still be in this mess, but you'd be short a son. See how this works? You take away my freedom, I take away your son. It's an even trade."

"Perhaps," Lucius said evenly, "but the Dark Lord is not a kind master, Mr. Maxwell. If I simply let you go before he had his audience with you, he would kill my son as punishment. Both of your options lead to my son's death, and I would like to prevent that."

"Ah," Duo said wisely, "but your son would be coming with me. In that, I would be silently agreeing to protect him. And I don't honestly think the Dark Lord would kill you in your son's place because that's just not a smart move on his part. If one starts killing his men for every slight infraction, eventually, one's army starts to dwindle."

Lucius was quiet for a moment that seemed like hours. McNair seemed to have faded into the background, but Draco didn't doubt that Duo had his attention divided between the Death Eaters evenly.

Oddly enough, Draco's father chuckled. "I wouldn't have believed the similarities. You _are_ so very much like her, you know."

"Who?" Duo said reluctantly after a moment clearly indicated that his question was exactly what Lucius wanted.

The elder Malfoy smiled. "Angelica Proud. Your mother."

Draco was hard pressed to control his start. Angelica Proud... he vaguely recognized the name. The Proud line was almost as old, if not older, than both the Black and the Malfoy lines. Most of the family had relocated to America not long after the country was discovered, but lack of proper marriage potential caused the family's numbers to dwindle. He'd always been led to assume the Proud line had died out, as many of the pureblood lines had over time.

"I knew her," Lucius went on, "and found her to be a remarkable young woman, Mr. Maxwell. She showed such promise in joining our most noble cause until she disappeared so suddenly."

Duo snorted. "Is this the part where you tell me I'm your illegitimate love child? 'Duo, I am your father', right? I have to tell you, man, that's been so overdone already."

Lucius smirked. "Of course not, Mr. Maxwell. I am and always have been a happily married man."

"So, what? Old Voldie wants to meet me in hopes of recruiting me?" Duo said with another derisive snort. "Look, Malfoy the Older, you can tell your master this for me: Duo Maxwell bows to no one. I don't believe in your cause, and people who justify killing others simply on the basis of purity of blood makes me physically ill. Sorry, but no."

"On the contrary, Mr. Maxwell," Lucius said calmly, "my master simply wishes for a moment of your time. Should you wish to leave after you've spoken, no one will stand in your way."

"I find that hard to believe," Duo replied wearily.

"I swear on my honor as a wizard. My Lord merely wishes to speak to you and, if you choose to leave after that, you will not be hindered in any way."

"Right," Duo said. "Draco, how good is this swearing on the honor of wizardry bit?"

_Thank you, merciful Fates!_ "As far as oaths go, it's a pretty good one," Draco replied stiffly. "If he goes back on it, he'll be forced to obey you until you deem the debt fulfilled, and his honor is restored. As far as I'm aware, a Malfoy's never sworn anything before."

"Right," Duo said again. "Fine. Whatever. I'll meet with Voldie. We'll chat over a nice cuppa tea. Two conditions: I remain armed, and none of you get within a yard of either myself or Draco. Comprende?"

"Of course," Lucius said smoothly, bowing his head slightly in agreement. Slowly the muggle device lowered to the ground, and Draco could finally slump in utter relief.

"You right bastard," he muttered indignantly. "You were going to make my head explode!"

"Hey, you're still breathing, aren't you?" Duo said. "Relax, Dragon Boy. I got this."

Considering the fact that Duo had just agreed to a conference with perhaps the most feared individual known to wizardkind, Draco sincerely doubted that.

His father and his father's fellow Death Eater stayed true to the agreement, cautious in their proximity to both Duo and Draco. They were led down one of Malfoy Manor's vast hallways, coming to a door leading to Lucius' personal office. Draco didn't doubt the Dark Lord had taken that as his temporary space, and he also suspected that Lucius was very congenial when his master welcomed himself into a room that Draco didn't see unless he was in serious trouble.

Draco stifled the urge to shiver and glanced at Duo from the corner of his eye. The American Gryffindor seemed ridiculously at ease, but from the way he held that muggle weapon -poised to raise, finger hovering near the trigger- Draco didn't doubt that the boy was totally prepared for any potential threatening move.

The Malfoy heir couldn't help but to think no one could truly be prepared to come face to face with the Dark Lord himself, just to tell that same Dark Lord to sod off and still expect to leave with a smile on his face... unless that guy was the Boy Who Lived. And Draco doubted Harry ever "left" with anything resembling a smile on his face.

Draco stiffened when the ornate heavy oak door opened to reveal a rather desolate, empty husk of a man with watery eyes and thinning hair. He felt more than saw Duo respond in the same manner, but Draco had a suspicious feeling that Duo's reaction had more to do with the strange glint of the man's hand; in all appearance, it was made of metal.

"Wormtail," the elder Malfoy drawled condescendingly, smirking. "I've brought Mr. Maxwell for our Lord's audience."

Wormtail. Where had he heard that before? The strange name struck an odd chord in Draco, but he couldn't honestly say where he had heard it. It could have been a passing mention from his father, but Lucius rarely talked of Death Eater business while Draco was present. And such a bleak figure would be far below his mother's notice. Maybe from Harry...

Harry.

That bloody map! Wormtail was one of the four extremely odd names from that wicked map that Draco was almost convinced Harry didn't deserve. But Harry had said his father and his father's friends had made it...

Wormtail was a Death Eater? Another friend of the famous James Potter -a turncoat from the Light? Potter would be so pissed when he found out! And if Harry had already found out... well, Draco was sorry he missed it. The sheer look of genuine betrayal and indignity would have been... Actually, if Draco were going to be honest with himself, the sight of Harry's face crumpled like that probably would have turned his stomach. That didn't make sense, though; Draco was supposed to enjoy Harry's misery, not... feel _sorry_ for him!

"Look alive, Dragon Boy," Duo whispered, snapping Draco from his pensive thoughts. The man called Wormtail had stepped away from the threshold, allowing Lucius and McNair to enter. Draco inhaled sharply, attempting to shove such troubling thoughts into the back of his mind for further ranting later, when it was safer to think about such things without the threat of falling dead to a well-aimed Killing Curse. Thinking about Harry in any other way than utter disgust would be liable to get him dead at this very delicate point, and Draco Malfoy very much liked the land of the living.

The office hadn't changed much from the last time he'd had the displeasure of being invited inside for some major offense to the Malfoy name; coincidently, the last lecture Draco had suffered in this room was at the end of his fourth year, and it was because of bloody Harry and Draco's tendency to go off at the mouth that got him there in the first place. His father's desk sat at the far end, large and imposing and made of oak that was almost stained black. The only light provided by the room came from the large ornate fireplace, where a heartily lit fire cast foreboding shadows across the sharp, angular surface of the side table that sat precariously near a high-backed leather chair that was facing away from the door; across from this chair were two others that faced it.

Draco stiffened when he saw a large snake of indeterminable species peer around the chair to look at those standing at the threshold of the doorway, followed by a bone white hand that stroked the snake's head in an almost comforting manner.

The almost threatening hissing did _not_ come from the snake.

"That's a big freaking snake," Duo noted casually. "Nagini, is it?"

Draco gawked at the braided American. What the hell was he talking about? With a glance at his father, he realized the elder Malfoy looked just as surprised as Draco felt. Then again, the Malfoy heir thought, Duo Maxwell would be the one who thought memorizing the name of the Dark Lord's most treasured pet would be important.

The hand stroking the snake's head stilled, and there was a sudden chuckle from the man (Draco shuddered to think that he was in the same room with a man accredited to so much in the way of panic and havoc in the wizarding world) hidden from sight. "Of course," came the amiable reply, though Draco doubted his words were simply confirming Duo's inquiry.

"Come, Mr. Duo Maxwell. We have much to discuss," Voldemort said casually, not at all sounding like the sinister monster he was made out to be. In fact, Voldemort sounded rather likeable, which made a lot of sense in retrospect. Draco supposed Voldemort wouldn't have so much of a following if he were in a permanent cranky mood.

Draco could hardly believe he just used the word 'cranky' in reference to the Dark Lord Voldemort, but...

"Yes," Duo said as he bravely went further into the room, nudging Draco sharply as he passed and prompting the reluctant Malfoy heir to follow. "Let's chat."

Draco guarded himself cautiously as he rounded the chair, hardly braving a peek as Duo welcomed himself to one of the empty chairs that faced Voldemort. Draco stiffly sat himself in the other, perched to bolt the second it looked as if there was going to be any trouble before he finally _looked_.

If this was the visage that muggles saw before the life left their eyes, Draco thought he should pity them; Voldemort looked every bit the monster he was made out to be, as if the dark magic he so freely cast had actually gone as far as to physically change him. White, smooth skin, red eyes that sported slitted pupils, and the lack of a nose gave the Dark Lord the impression of a Nagi, a half-human half-snake creature of myth that hadn't been seen in the wizarding world for well over a hundred years.

Voldemort spared Draco a more-than-cursory glance that Draco was hard-pressed to shiver at, feeling more than a little violated by those imposing red eyes before the Dark Lord's attention focused primarily on Duo, and Draco felt as if he could breathe again. "You three may leave," Voldemort said for the benefit of the three elders in the room. Draco looked toward his father, seeing that the man didn't like this idea at all, but none made any argument as they filed out of the room.

They were alone. _Spirits_...

"So. Duo Maxwell. We finally meet. Or should I call you Keary?"

"I won't answer to it, so you might as well call me Duo," the American said swiftly; for once, the joker's facade didn't encompass Duo's being, much like when the American held Draco as a hostage before his very father only moments ago. However, even then Duo had held on to at least some part of his laughing mask, but now there was no sign of it. "Cut to the chase, Voldemort. What do you want from me?"

Voldemort's soothing hand on his snake's head stilled again, and the man (could someone who looked as Voldemort did truly be called a man still?) looked earnestly bemused at Duo's inquiry. "Want?" he said softly. "Must I want something from you other than to meet you, Duo Maxwell?"

"People like you want one of two things from me," Duo said. "For me to fight for them, or to kill me. Lucius assured me that the latter won't be happening tonight, so I can only assume you want me to join your cause, and I'll tell you right now that it's not happening. You might as well let us leave now."

"I see," Voldemort said lightly, seemingly not affected by Duo's announcement that there would be no chance in hell the Gryffindor would join Voldemort's Death Eaters. "A firm stance you're taking on this, I suppose."

"I don't kill people for causes I don't believe in," Duo said solemnly. "There are more important things in this world than the purity of blood and power. Your cause is a worthless one to me."

Draco wanted to kick Duo. Badly. Was the idiot _trying_ to get himself killed, and Draco by proxy? Because dying wasn't really on Draco's list of things to do presently. Maybe at a nice old age of 100, when his good looks had faded in time and there was really nothing more to live for. Certainly not _today_, when he was still beautiful and in his prime.

"Our opinions on that differ greatly," Voldemort said cooly, red eyes narrowing on the Gryffindor thoughtfully. "You are much like your mother, in that respect. She didn't think much of my goals, either."

"But I'm sure you have some redeemable qualities, since she stuck around long enough for you to actually get to know her," Duo said flatly.

Voldemort smiled humorlessly. "Yes, I suppose. Dear Angelica Proud... One thing that we have in common is that both of our mothers died in childbirth, Duo Maxwell, and neither of us seem to have cared much of it. She named you well," the Dark Lord remarked thoughtfully.

Draco couldn't help but to think this was actually _leading_ somewhere. No matter how personable the Dark Lord seemed to be, he didn't strike Draco the type to make way for idle chitchat.

Duo didn't smile or smirk or try to make light of it; instead, the American Gryffindor's expression became unreadable. "_I_ named me well. Duo Maxwell is _my_ name; not Keary."

"The name given to you is such a strong name," Voldemort said. "Unique. _Uncommon_. What is the reason you cleave so preciously to the moniker you've given yourself, I wonder?"

"Duo is for the first friend I ever had," Duo said evenly. "Solo died of the plague that swept through L2 years ago, and he took better care of me than anyone. Maxwell is in honor of the first family I ever had. I suppose you've never heard of the Maxwell Church Massacre." Duo lifted his chin defiantly, his normally vibrant eyes dull with the pain of distant memory. "I'm the only survivor. If there's something I learned soon enough, Voldemort, it's that those who care about me will eventually die. They call me the God of Death for a reason."

God of Death? _God of Death_? How come this was the first Draco had heard of it? Who went around calling himself the God of Death, anyway?

"The God of Death," Voldemort mused aloud, his hand going back to placating his snake. "Interesting how you've taken on the very moniker of the ever-prevalent being I've spent a lot of my time avoiding."

"And I've embraced the fact that it'll eventually happen, whether I want it to or not," Duo said with conviction. "Further proving that _we_ have very little in common."

"Yes, I see that," Voldemort said, actually sounding very _disappointed_ about it. "How differently things would have turned out, Duo Maxwell... Though I must admit that I had thought this would be a possibility."

"Than why even try?"

The Dark Lord shrugged casually. "There's always a promising chance that things turn out as I hope in the end. There seemed to have been no harm in trying."

"Right. No harm. Just so you know, I shot one of your Death Eaters," Duo said casually, standing from his seat. "Though, to be fair, I did warn him not to move."

"I suspected as much when Jansen wasn't present," Voldemort said with a casual twist of his wrist. "Bloody fool could never follow orders well."

"So that's it?" Duo said skeptically. "I get to walk out of here without having to worry about an attack?"

"Lucius' vow was made on my decision, Duo Maxwell," Voldemort said calmly. "I cannot go back on that vow. You are free to leave, as promised."

"Great," Duo said with a grin. "Well, no offense, but let's hope we never have to meet again. C'mon, Dragon Boy, let's book it."

Draco could hardly believe it. They were leaving Voldemort after Duo told him to sod off. And they were _alive_. Draco was never one to put his faith in the gods, but a deity somewhere saw fit to smile down on the Malfoy heir for once, and he wasn't about to curse a higher being for his sudden run of good luck.

He was almost out of the chair before Voldemort's voice aborted his move. "I'm afraid you've been misled, Duo. You are allowed to leave. I have further need of young Draco."

_Damn the gods to the very pits of hell and beyond!_

Duo narrowed his eyes dangerously at the Dark Lord, and Draco was relieved to see the Gryffindor wasn't budging. "I'm not leaving without Draco."

"You'll have to," Voldemort said evenly, "because Draco isn't leaving."

"What the hell is this?" Duo demanded boldly, his hand very near where he had stored his weapon. "I thought a wizard's vow was your bond!"

"Don't impugn my honor, Duo," Voldemort said softly, sounding very much like the Dark Lord he was made out to be. "_You_ are allowed to leave. Draco Malfoy was never part of that pact."

"Fuck _that_," Duo said hotly, seemingly not even caring that he was saying that to Voldemort, the man who cast deadly curses for lesser offenses. "What do you want with Draco?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, nor do I believe you are striking the proper tone considering your situation," Voldemort said warningly.

"There is no way I'm leaving Draco to your tender mercies, Voldemort. He's my _friend_. I have a right to know exactly what you have in store for him."

The stubborn glare clashed with Voldemort's ire, and the room was suddenly tense with a lot of intimidating power that radiated between the two wizards. Draco was speechlessly staring at Duo, the detachment he had so desperately cleaved to in the beginning falling away once he realized that Duo wasn't going to leave without him, Dark Lord be damned. The Malfoy heir doubted that his own father would go as far as to protect him from someone like the Dark Lord, much less any of his friends since childhood. But Duo, the American Gryffindor that had somehow wormed his way into Draco's favor, the same Gryffindor who teased him and mocked most of what Draco stood by, who had only befriended him for a scant few months, was standing by Draco. Wouldn't leave Draco in the face of a messy death.

Damn. Draco suddenly realized he probably needed a lot more friends like Duo. Even if they held devices against his temple that caused people's heads to explode.

"I could tell you what I intend for young Draco," Voldemort said finally, raising an eyebrow cooly, "but you wouldn't like it. In fact, Duo Maxwell, I'm pretty sure you would attempt to stop me, and that wouldn't do."

"So you aren't just going to recruit him," Duo said accusingly, and suddenly the gun was in his hand again. The braided boy didn't raise it to Voldemort, however; the gun was left dangling at his side. "What do you want with Draco?"

Voldemort smiled, and it wasn't a very pleasant sight at all. "Very well. Since things did not work out with you, Duo, I plan to make Draco Malfoy my... avatar, if you will."

"Avatar... you mean heir," Duo said, surprise laced in his voice. "You weren't trying to recruit me... you were trying to name me your heir?"

"I am not getting any younger," Voldemort said passively. "Someone needs to continue on leading my Death Eaters."

"Why me?" Duo demanded. "I've lived the first sixteen years of my life as a muggle, the very kind of person you despise. You couldn't have liked my mother that much, especially when you said I'm just like her. Why do you want _me?_"

The snake's head lifted and hissed almost inaudibly, bringing another smile to Voldemort's lips as he casually stroked the reptile's head. Duo's reaction was very different; the braided boy stiffened, as if he'd completely forgotten about the snake until that moment.

"Since when," Duo said softly, "did snakes learn how to talk?"

Draco felt the very breath freeze in his lungs as he stared at Duo. Oh, spirits... Spirits, did this mean what he thought it did?

"Duo," Draco croaked, silent until this very moment, "the snake... didn't _say_ anything."

Voldemort chuckled. "Haven't you ever seen a snake before, Duo? Have you not, in all of your life, come across one of these creatures?"

"There aren't any snakes on L2," Duo said tersely before swinging a glance toward Draco. "And what do you mean, the snake didn't say anything? It called me an insolent hatchling. Those are fighting words."

"It seems you are a Parselmouth, Duo," Voldemort said, dark amusement shining in his red eyes. "The ability to speak and understand snakes. Salazar Slytherin himself had this ability, and it's been passed down through his lineage. A talent you've inherited from your... _father_, no doubt."

"Oh, spirits..." Draco said weakly. It _did_ mean what he thought it did. The map... He remembered making out Duo's first name, and a little of the middle, but his last name was such a blur...

Duo looked to have reached the same sickening conclusion, judging by his pale complexion and the sudden tremor of the gun in his hand. "My mother... of course. She stuck around, even if she didn't agree with your cause... And you haven't killed me. The Ministry's secrecy, the teachers' caution. Why the wandmaker was so interested in my last name..."

"Riddle," Draco muttered dazedly. "Keary Guthrie Riddle."

And Voldemort smiled.

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**_


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Duo's New Name:**

**Duo's name is actually very symbolic. I noticed that JKR always has an underlining reason for doing what she does -for instance, the day of Harry's birthday, July 31. That makes Harry a Leo, and thus, the very candidate for Gryffindor, which is a house represented by a lion. The starstone for a Leo is RUBY and the color of a Leo is GOLD -both of those are colors of Gryffindor House. Even Voldemort's name means something in another language -translated, it means "flight of death" (or wings of death. I've heard it translated both ways). I decided to embellish on that. Keary and Guthrie are both Celtic in origin; Keary means "father's dark child" and Guthrie means "war serpent".**

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty-Five**_

* * *

****

To further grasp the situation, we must again backtrack to a time when one manic American Gryffindor and his Prince of Slytherin companion had just begun to embark on a daring escape from the clutches of evil Death Eaters and possibly the most feared Dark Lord in known history. We must also move across a great distance where, instead of the isolated castle located outside of Buckinghamshire that housed Malfoys and Malfoy heirs for centuries after their migration from France, sat a school somewhere in the most remote part of Scotland. Half a mile away from the school was this little known, but vastly popular all-wizarding town called Hogsmeade, where no muggle had ever set foot. In fact, most non-wizarding people couldn't see Hogsmeade even if they had known of it by some stroke of luck, as even the most high-tech satellite surveillance could not seem to find proof that such a rural place (rural, mind, by only the standards of those who did not believe in all things mystical and magical) even existed.

Sirius Black thought, in hindsight, that he perhaps should have left a note for Remus Lupin that he was once again up to his old tricks playing a severely underrated hero. He had nothing on him to even scrawl out a quick note to send with an owl (not that he had one of those, either), and he didn't dare venture too close to Hogsmeade and ask the nearest wizard to spare some parchment, a quill, and an inkpot so he could kip over to the owlery to send off such a note. "Why, yes, I _am _the escaped convict known as Sirius Black, but rumors of my supposed crimes are highly overrated." It wasn't exactly something he could say to just anyone, and he doubted even the most congenial or gullible wizard or witch would believe him. He could only hope that Moony would later forgive him for leaving without so much as a word.

And Sirius didn't even want to _think_ about how much of a bad example he was setting for Harry, who tended to do the same thing too often on way too many occasions. He instead focused on the fact that he was glad that Harry seemed to be relatively Dark Lord free at the moment, and not in the thick of things as per usual.

In any case, he had a slightly bigger problem. When asking Yuy where he was supposed to meet the boy, the Slytherin merely said that they would find him. Sirius didn't doubt that 'they' included the likes of the other new Slytherin Barton, the Chang kid, and the angel-faced Hufflepuff Winner. Just as long as there wasn't any Gryffindor sixth year that happened to be named Harry, Hermione, or Ron in the mix, he was fine with the odd assortment of would-be rescuers.

"That's him?"

Padfoot nearly jumped right out of his fur as he whirled around to give the four boys standing at the bottom of the embankment a chiding doggy glare. His keen sense of smell hadn't detected the approach of anyone; while not on par with real dogs, his olfactory sense was still a bloody bit better than humans. It would figure that Yuy would instruct everyone to remain downwind from him just to see if they could sneak up on the old dog, judging by the smug look on Yuy's face. Still, Sirius was surprised he didn't hear their approach. Most people at least had the courtesy to clod around snapping twigs and crunching gravel like normal human beings, but these kids were sneaky about it.

With a pop, Sirius transformed back into his human skin, glowering at Yuy. "You're such a brat."

Chang raised an eyebrow. "So Harry's favorite Snuffles just so happens to be his escaped convict of a godfather? That's a far leap, even for me."

"Innocent convict," Winner corrected his friend gently, propping the broom in his hand on the ground and leaning against the handle casually. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the brooms were Hogwarts' very own school brooms, judging by the rather careworn appearance and models. "Looks like Duo and Trowa were right. Snuffles really isn't a normal dog."

"Been debating about it, have you?" Sirius said flatly, retrieving his own broom from its resting position against a tree. He was inwardly shocked that teenagers could be so observant; grown men hadn't even realized Sirius and Snuffles were the same, much less that 'Snuffles' was anymore than the playful dog with an unfortunate Grimlike disposition. No wonder they had Albus' respect -these kids were sharp.

Whatever more could be said about the discovery of Snuffles being suspect was cut drastically short by Yuy expertly straddling his broom and pushing off from the ground, hovering in place for a moment. "Let's go."

Sirius followed the boys in their movement, dipping down the embankment to hover by Yuy's side. "Where to, boss?"

Oddly enough, Yuy regarded Winner silently at the question, and it was Winner who responded with, "We're flying at least a mile south. Once we're at least a fair distance away from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, we'll activate the tracker charm that will lead us to Duo. After that, we can risk taking the spells off of the Gundams."

"Gundams?" Sirius asked curiously once they set out, pushing their out-of-date brooms to the limit. Sirius didn't have nearly as much trouble keeping up with the school brooms considering he was flying Harry's Firebolt, which he had borrowed without permission in hopes that Harry liked him enough not to be really upset about it, but he had every intention of bringing back in much of the same condition it was in before he took it. "What's a Gundams?"

"Plural, for one," Chang said dryly.

"Scourge of our enemies, for another," Barton added evenly.

"Duo always said there's no better warning to toe the line than bringing out the big artillery," Winner said with a fond smile that seemed rather strained. Sirius guessed that Winner and the Maxwell kid must have been great pals, and the thought of his friend anywhere near the Dark Lord was a very trying concept for him.

Huh. Maxwell. Sirius had to admit, that kid did his godson right. Harry had nothing but good things to say about his quirky American friend, and Sirius had liked Maxwell's spunk ever since he first laid eyes on him positioning the rather crooked carrot-nose of a snowman that was supposed to represent the sour Potions Master, with a snowman version of Harry clearly making a face at snowman-Snape's back. It didn't hurt that Sirius could spot a renowned prankster from thirty clicks away, and Duo Maxwell definitely had everything that made up a true prankster. In fact, the only problem Sirius really had with the kid was Maxwell's baffling habit of befriending the likes of Draco bloody Malfoy and his Slytherin friends... but even then, anyone who publicly teased ol' Snivellus Snape couldn't be that bad.

It didn't take them long to clear the forest that stretched nearly a mile outside of Hogsmeade. Winner, satisfied with the distance between them and anyone that could possibly see them (paranoid much?), slowed the speed of their travel and declined slightly, touching down smoothly and resting the broom on the ground. The others followed suit almost instantly, causing Sirius' eyebrows to rise thoughtfully as he leaned against Harry's Firebolt in contemplation. Clearly, he needed to alter his perception about the group dynamics. Despite being a Hufflepuff in a group mainly composed of Slytherins and one Ravenclaw, Winner seemed to be the unannounced leader, whereas Sirius had almost been positive that had been Yuy's role.

"This is far enough," Winner said, tilting his head at Chang. "Wufei?"

The Chinese youth lifted his wand and murmured under his breath. Almost at once, the four inhaled deeply and seemed to turn their heads to look toward the southwest with conviction.

"Far away," Barton noted absently. "Certainly out of Scotland entirely. That's farther than we'd anticipated."

Winner nodded heavily. "Even if we utilize Wing Zero's flight capability at its' maximum potential, it'll take us two, maybe two and a half hours to get there. I don't think we have that much time to spare, and the cockpit only seats one, two if Heero pushes it."

"These brooms are entirely too derelict to even attempt that distance, and I doubt we'd get there before the sun rises," Chang said gravely.

"I recognize the area," Yuy said suddenly, his eyes narrowed. "It's Buckinghamshire. I went to the boarding school nearby during a mission once; on my way to the OZ base, I remember seeing that same castle."

"Wait, what?" Sirius asked, blinking. "Okay. Those tracking spells not only gave you a feeling of where you're supposed to go, but you got a vision, as well?"

"Yes," Winner said. "A large castle with wrought iron gates that surrounded it. There are elegantly scripted Ms worked in the gates..."

And there was only one pureblood family with the initials MM worked into the gates near Buckinghamshire that he knew of. Sirius smirked. "I know where that is. Malfoy Manor."

"You're positive?" Chang said critically.

"If I were any more positive, I'd be pregnant," Sirius said smugly. "My parents were bosom buddies with the Malfoys, so every summer I had to suffer through another one of their stupid galas or parties. I've been there often enough to know exactly where the anti-apparation borders begin and end. You happen to be looking at the only guy amongst you with any skill in disapparating. And I happen to be bloody good at disapparating with groups." He had to be; Peter had been a complete disaster at it.

"Isn't that an odd stroke of luck," Chang noted thoughtfully.

"It works in our favor," Yuy said sharply before turning his attention back to Sirius. "How far do the borders extend?"

"Only half a mile from the manor itself," Sirius replied. "Malfoy Manor happens to be surround by woodland on the east and south sides. It'll provide great cover. Lucius Malfoy was once a suspected Death Eater in the eyes of the Ministry before he bought his way out of trouble after the first fall of Voldemort, so he won't chance having other suspected Death Eaters patrol the grounds in case there's a surprise inspection. I'm not sure it'll be quite as easy once we're inside, but at least it gives you the opportunity to get in."

"That's all I'll need," Yuy said grimly. "I can infiltrate Malfoy Manor while you three take the spells off of the Gundams at a distance. Duo will have Deathscythe Hell ready to go after we've escaped; I suspect he'll want to take a little aggression out on the manor itself. You know Duo never liked being captured. He takes it as an insult to his talents."

"That's not a bad idea," Winner noted with a frown. "Mr. Black, can you apparate Trowa, Wufei, and myself half a mile away from the manor itself, preferably to the north?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Sirius said, frowning. "I'm not sure I like the idea of Yuy going in alone. No offense, but you guys have been in the wizarding world for less than a year. These people were raised in families where magic is common."

"I can handle things on my end," Yuy said flatly.

"Actually, Mr. Black, I was hoping you'd accompany Heero," Winner said softly. "It's as you said -we're not very experienced when it comes to magic, and Heero will most likely need the backup. However, this street goes two ways; while we might not be experienced with magic, they aren't very experienced with dealing with muggle militia. Muggles aren't as defenseless as your world makes them out to be."

"I'll take your word on that," Sirius said, attempting to keep the doubt from his voice. "But what can you three do that far away?"

"We'll be backing the two of you up, if not in person, then by sheer force." Winner smiled. "Trust us. We can do a lot more than you can imagine." He turned to Yuy again. "We'll give you half an hour to infiltrate the manor before we take the spells off the Gundams. You'll be going through the front door, and we'll be covering the back. I'm sure we'll have their attention after the Gundams are fully operational; give the signal only if it's obvious the Death Eaters won't acquiesce with the release of Duo and Draco."

Yuy nodded sharply before handing a bag to Barton. "All five are there."

Five? The toys?

"Right," Barton said, slipping the satchel's straps around his shoulders. "We're ready."

----------

Life is riddled with clues to the great mystery of a person's origins; whether that person can correctly interpret or even understand the signs given to him makes all the difference.

And Duo Maxwell remembered the signs. They were just never important to him until he realized the true impact of the situation.

He knew, for example, that he was born with the name Keary Riddle, though he refused to acknowledge his given name for the familiarity and meaning of the one he'd given himself -so much more important, he thought, than some name on some document that was long lost and forgotten. The name he'd given himself meant so much more to him than the name given to him by a woman who died before she could truly know him, and vise versa. "Duo Maxwell" was more than just a name to go by; it was the memories of both the happiest and saddest times of his life. And no one could take his memories away from him.

Still, he never questioned why Headmaster Dumbledore continuously agreed again and again to call him by that name, going as far as addressing his first letter from the Headmaster by it. His school records, even his slim Ministry file... all under the name Duo Maxwell. Duo should have realized there might have been some other purpose behind it besides the sake of Duo's own comfort. He _should have_ known... but he hadn't cared.

The wandmaker had known. The wandmaker wouldn't even pretend to know otherwise.

_Duo stepped gingerly into the rather derelict store sporting the name Ollivander's, immediately taking note of the thin layer of dust that seemed to coat every surface of the shop. He smirked in amusement as he turned, watching through the storefront windows as the imposing figure of one pissed off Potions Master skulked off to do whatever pissed off Potions Masters did in their spare time after having to endure a chatty American nuisance for more than two hours._

_Duo was still positive that Snape would be allowed to return to the apothecary after that unfortunate incident with the new shipment of highly combustible ingredients and the braided American having way too much fun with a dung bomb some joke shop employee had passed out to random passers-by as free samples. He still didn't know how something that smelled so noxious could possibly cause the trouble it did... but he had known that it left a lot of amusing potential for disaster that he couldn't ignore._

_At the sound of a wizen voice from behind, Duo turned quickly, his gun already palmed from its resting place and half raised in the direction of the voice. "Ah, Mr. Riddle. I've been expecting you for quite some time now."_

_The old man's eyes rested curiously on Duo's gun, and he easily slipped it back into the waist of his pants, absently remembering to switch the safety back on. He was a little impressed with the man; not many people could actually sneak up on the master of sneak, himself._

"_You mean Maxwell," Duo corrected primly after realizing that no one else was in the store for the man to address. "But I can see how the mistake in pronunciation could be made, since, you know, Riddle and Maxwell sound so much alike," he added with a light mixture of sarcasm and teasing. He had been expecting this man to play along as Dumbledore had when the man first addressed him as Keary Riddle, but this one would have none of it._

"_I know who I'm addressing," Mr. Ollivander said solemnly, his small watery eyes making an unnerving study of Duo, as if the man could see right through him. "You, Mr. Riddle, are not what I was expecting. Not what I was expecting at all."_

_Mr. Ollivander turned then to retrieve the first wand for Duo to try, leaving it at that. And Duo, having no desire to push the subject further, allowed the man to continue addressing him as Mr. Riddle... even if he didn't answer to it._

And now Duo knew why Ollivander hadn't been expecting the likes of Duo Maxwell, born Keary Guthrie Riddle.

"The scythe... the teddy bear..." Duo said aloud, comforted by the weight of the gun in his hand as he clutched the grip tightly. "Your doing, I suppose."

Voldemort's smirk was his only reply.

_That_ pissed Duo off. "I can knock the teddy bear off as a sick, twisted joke to sate your equally sick, twisted sense of humor," Duo said flatly, "but how did you know I'd accept the scythe?"

"Your reputation proceeds you," the Dark Lord said simply, his hand motioning to a newspaper lying innocently on the side table. Duo was surprised he hadn't noticed it before; a muggle newspaper that sported a very familiar picture of him slumped over, uncomfortably supported by the tight grip of the OZ guards that surrounded him. It was the same picture from his wanted poster from only a year ago.

"A wanted man in the muggle world," Voldemort continued thoughtfully. "Even from what little one could glean from the picture, it wasn't hard to make the connection. You do look so much like your mother, you know. It didn't take much to research what your weapon... this _Gundam_... was modeled after."

"Deathscythe," Duo murmured. "My aibou..."(1)

"My second gift to you," Voldemort continued lightly, "was a way to determine how you would react to something you deemed unfit that still impacted on a personal level. I must say, I would have never guessed how or why one such as yourself responded the way you did. You, Mr. Maxwell, are a highly unpredictable individual. While many in your position would be cowering in fear or struck speechless in my presence, you've spoken to me with casual disregard bordering a clear disrespect. I'm not sure I like that."

"I don't care what you like," Duo retorted, the grip of his gun a comfortable weight in his hand as he glared at the Dark Lord. "I couldn't care less about what you like or want or even what your favorite breakfast food is. Knowing that we have thirteen out of twenty-six markers in common in our DNA makeup doesn't automatically ensure that I like anything about you. The point of the matter is, I'm not going to let you hurt or otherwise traumatize Draco. Either he walks out of this place by my side and you live to terrorize the European continent another day, or he walks out with me and, well, I'll be doing the world a favor in killing you."

"Whatever gave you the impression that I was out to harm Mr. Malfoy, Duo?" Voldemort asked, tilting his head to the side with a knowing smirk.

Duo understood what the Dark Lord was getting at. There was no way, logically, that he could even fathom what Voldemort had in store for Draco. For all he knew, Draco would be required to learn how to take command of the Death Eaters after the Dark Lord fell, perhaps punctuating the routine with frequent tea time chats about how dirty muggles and muggleborns were. Draco could just be gaining a title -Draco Malfoy, heir to the Dark Lord Voldemort, mini-Dark Lord in training, Prince of Darkness... It could have been any of those, really. But all Duo had to do was look at the uncomfortable, panicked expression that Draco was so desperately trying to hide and listen to his gut instinct. And his gut instinct said that when Voldemort had a backup plan that involved Draco, nothing good could come of it.

Duo's instinct had never led him astray before, and he doubted it would lead him astray now.

"Let's just say," Duo said lowly, flickering a calm glance toward Draco, "that I severely doubt Draco's position with you involves tea and crumpets and a mutual dislike for muggleborns."

"I don't recall giving you any statement to prove your assumption," Voldemort said smoothly, that same annoying smirk on his monstrous face. Despite the lack of resemblance, Duo twitched irritably when he recognized that smirk; it was the same look Duo himself often got when he knew he was giving someone the run around, and he was doing it well. No wonder his enemies were always on the verge of going into a rage when Duo looked at them like that. It was very effective in getting someone to lose his cool. Fast.

"All I need is my instinct to make the connection," Duo said coldly, attempting to reign in his temper. He knew the last thing he needed was to blow a fuse and lunge for the same man made infamous for his cruelty. Judging by the gleam in Voldemort's slitted eyes, the Dark Lord knew that, too. "Cut the chatter, Gramps. I'm not going to join you just to save my buddy's skin, and he clearly doesn't want to join you either. Case closed. Moving on now. Draco, let's go."

"Draco," Voldemort said suddenly, "is Duo correct? You honestly wish to go against your father in such a hugely profound way as to risk my displeasure?"

What blood Draco had left in his face suddenly drained, leaving the boy with a pallor that made him appear two steps away from Death's door.

"_Shut up!_" Duo yelled, finally lifting his gun and pointing it directly at the Dark Lord, attempts to remain calm be _damned_. "Shut up! You _know_ Draco's not going to deny you outright; you know for a fact that Slytherins don't work that way! Using his reluctance to actually speak out against people like you and his father isn't going to make me leave him behind! I don't leave my friends to scum like you!"

"Duo..." Draco said hoarsely. Duo could feel the eyes of his friend drill into him, though he didn't need to see the look in Draco's eyes to know there was amazement and gratitude there below the fear of what the Dark Lord had in store for the Malfoy heir.

"Be that as it may," Voldemort said, "you can't possibly believe you can kidnap Draco Malfoy from his own home against his will. The world is terrified at the prospect of me being back, preferring to believe that the Death Eaters are working as vigilantes. They'll never believe that your kidnaping attempt was to rescue poor Draco from a dead Dark Lord. Lucius will have you shipped to Azkaban for it -and despite your reluctance to associate with me, I'd hate for that to happen to my son. It would be... improper."

"I can damn well try," Duo said boldly.

"No."

Duo blinked, glancing at Draco. "What?"

The boy was staring at his limp hands resting in his lap, reluctant to meet anyone's eyes. Duo saw the Malfoy heir stiffen suddenly, and with heavy resolve in his steel eyes, he looked at Voldemort. "No. I'm not staying here. I was raised to be the _Malfoy heir_; it's the Malfoy heir I'd rather be."

Duo grinned proudly before turning a smug look to the Dark Lord. That's right. The know-it-all smirk that tempted lesser men into frenzied rages was firmly in place.

Voldemort frowned at Duo disapprovingly before looking directly at Draco, a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes. "I see. So you side with the mudbloods and the muggle-lovers?"

"No," Draco said brazenly. "I still believe that muggles are little more than dangerous animals, and mudbloods are still hazardous links between the two worlds. Should a mudblood ever reveal our world, I still believe muggles would hunt us as they've done in the past. But you -you kill as many purebloods as you do muggles. The more pureblood families you eradicate, the less marriage potential for the rest of us who keep with the old ways. We'll continue on marrying close cousins until finally the results will be so damaging that we won't be able to raise anymore than common squibs.

"Those with muggle blood in them were the minority before the mid-seventies, when you became a threat. There was a drastic decline in pureblood births because you'd wipe out any family that didn't create ties with you. Now the majority of Hogwarts student body are mudbloods, and the remaining purebloods are struggling to keep up. You're not as interested in pureblood rights as you are your own need for power, and you use our fear of dying out as a way to obtain more power. Nothing keeps you from going after neutral families like the Zabinis or the Turpins or what's left of the Prewitts after your last reign. No. I'm not joining you. I want nothing to do with you or your obsession with power."

Duo thought Draco deserved a cookie for managing to keep a brave face in telling the Dark Lord to go screw himself. A really big cookie. Bigger than Draco's _face_. He fought a shiver that seemed to be determined to shake him, not out of fear; no, Duo was too pissed off to actually be afraid. The warmth of the room seemed to have been sucked right out of the atmosphere by the seriousness of the situation, leaving him feeling cold and empty.

Voldemort, once seemingly angered by Draco's frank defiance, smiled once again. "I'd not expected to hear such adamant protest from you when your father firmly believes in my cause, young Draco," Voldemort said cooly, but Duo wasn't fooled. Voldemort wasn't finished yet. "I admire that you managed to stand up to me, despite that it would have been a mistake for you to do so."

"Would have been?" Draco questioned, fighting to keep the unease from his voice. Duo's hand trembled suddenly, and he found it difficult to steady the gun in his hand. He was starting to think that maybe the warmth seeping from his very pores had nothing to do with the tension he was feeling.

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I care if you're willing or not," Voldemort replied with a smirk. "I don't necessarily want or even require your permission. In fact, Duo, you'd only be helping me succeed by killing me."

"Don't see how I'd be doing that," Duo said tersely, "as you'd be dead. Kind of means you lose."

"Can't you see, Duo? Or perhaps not. You have been away from the wizarding world for most of your life, so maybe you don't recognize what's going on quite like young Draco does," Voldemort said. Duo spared another glance at Draco, shocked to see the boy so openly horrified as he stared not at the Dark Lord, but at the closed door of the room.

"The chill, the palpable misery that seems to be coagulating in your rapidly beating heart... it's as if the very happiness is being drained from you," the Dark Lord continued with a malicious chuckle. "And it is, Duo. That's the very case; your happiness is being stolen from you, and it only gets worse as it moves closer."

"What's he talking about, Draco?" Duo asked lowly, bracing his feet apart and moving his other hand to the gun as he attempted to stabilize himself. He fought to control the tremors that wanted to dance along his spine.

"Dementors," Draco mumbled fearfully. "There are dementors near..."

Dementors. Duo recalled very little about them besides the fact that dementors were supposed to guard the wizarding prison Azkaban. He remembered the one time Harry had mentioned them; the green-eyed boy had been tense and agitated, going no further to explain anything about them other than they were utterly miserable creatures. And the name of the creatures didn't exactly inspire feelings of sunshine and daisies.

"Only one," Voldemort said smugly, "but that's all I need. You see, Malfoy, you _will_ be my heir in every sense of the word. The heir to my title, in name... and the heir to my very soul."

"Spirits!" Draco yelped, standing up from his seat so quickly that the chair actually tipped back, threatening to fall over before it righted itself again. "You're going to have it give me the Dementor's Kiss!"

"The what?" Duo snapped.

"Duo," Draco said shrilly, sounding even more panicked than when Duo had held him at gunpoint, "he's going to have the dementor _remove my soul_!"

Voldemort laughed as if a small child had made a rather amusing childlike observation. "So that I can take up residence unchallenged, of course. You see, Duo, you were right in that the difference between us is that the thing I fear the most is death. Draco is young, handsome, and pure. A fresh start after having to deal with this obviously flawed attempt to bring myself back to life," he added, gesturing his face and body. "I did not always look like this; this is a mistake made due to that pathetic Wormtail's stupidity when the ritual was done almost two years ago.

"So you see, killing me wouldn't stop me from doing as I please. I've already given the dementor its orders; once Draco's soul is removed, I'll simply be moving in unopposed."

Duo was left scrambling for a suitable plan when the door swung open, revealing the frightening visage of what seemed to hover just outside of the doorway. Chills wracking his frame, he didn't think he really wanted to see what was lying under that hood as the creature moved into the room. He doubted Draco was any more inclined than he was.

Well...

Fuck.

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**_

* * *

**(1) "Aibou" is the manner in which Duo typically addresses his Gundam when he talks to it. It means "partner" or "buddy". It's probably the ONLY Japanese word you'll see appearing in this fic, since I'm trying to get out of the habit of inserting random words just because I know them. If you've noticed, Duo hasn't said anything like "sugoi!" once during this entire thing. In fact, the only thing vaguely Japanese that Duo's used is the suffix -chan, used as a term of endearment for Heero.**


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty-Six**_

Timing had a lot to do with Heero's overall hesitation to break from the cover of the thick foliage of the forest that spread around a good portion of what Black claimed to be Malfoy Manor. Approximately thirty feet separated Heero from the looming entrance of the castle before him, and Heero felt every one of those feet between him and his goal as a personal offense. Black was hunched down next to him, almost thrumming with an interesting mix of trepidation and excitement.

"What are we waiting for?" Black whispered suddenly. Despite the fact his words were whispered, it sounded like an explosion on Heero's delicate pre-mission nerves. He instantly fought the urge to flinch, and he didn't bother to send the older wizard a stern glare. Black was not one of his fellow pilots; he didn't know that talking this close to executing a mission could very well risk exposure. It would be completely useless to berate the man for being so bloody incompetent.

Heero pointed at his watch and hoped that Black got the message. No more speaking until Heero gave the signal. Unfortunately, Black wasn't quite that quick as he raised an eyebrow in bemusement and whispered, "Nice. A muggle thing, right? So what are we waiting for?"

Heero ground his teeth together and finally gave in, giving the convict a deadly glare. Slowly, he mouthed two words, "Shut. Up." And then he mouthed, "Time," with another insistent point at his watch. Black frowned and made like he was about to talk again, prompting Heero to glare acid at the man again. Finally understanding that Heero wasn't really in the mood to hear anything he had to say, Black closed his mouth with an audible clack of his teeth.

Thank. God.

Heero checked his watch again. Nineteen minutes had passed by since Black had apparated him just outside the anti-apparation borders. It had only taken the man a moment to disapparate again and repeat the process with his fellow pilots before coming back to Heero, upon which began their journey through the forest and up to just on the outskirts. The purpose of the wait, of course, was to give the others enough time to achieved their desired positions and place the Gundams enough distance apart to compensate for the sheer size of each mobile suit before the spells were negated.

Muggles didn't have magic. That was fact. However, wizards -even those that sympathized with muggles- had an unfortunate tendency to regard beings without magic as harmless and defenseless; this made wizards complacent and secure in the knowledge of their own superiority. They were about to prove that such an assumption was a dangerous one, and they were probably going to bruise some egos while they were at it. And Heero was in the mood to demolish some overinflated egos.

Twenty minutes. Heero nodded sharply to himself before bringing his ever-present Glock to hand, methodically ejecting the clip and taking inventory of his ammo under Black's curious gaze. Once assuring himself that he had a full clip, he easily inserted it back into the handle of the gun and took the time to take the safety off. He placed his more familiar weapon into his right hand before taking the wand with his left. While he was uncomfortable not having the freedom of an extra hand, there was a rare chance that he'd run out of ammo before he'd run out of enemies. Having his wand prepped would be better than taking a few precious milliseconds to retrieve it from the place he stored it, giving his enemy the perfect chance to cast a hex while he was unarmed.

He was set. He nodded sharply at Black before breaking cover, going to the entrance of Malfoy Manor at a dead run. He heard Black follow closely behind him, but he paid little attention to the man as he quickly scanned every visible window of the castle. In all appearances, no one was watching; they arrived to the entrance unmolested. Apparently, those inside were confident that no one would even fathom their location.

Idiots.

But it worked to Heero's advantage.

Once at the darkly polished double-doors that dwarfed them, Black took his wand and whispered, "_Alohamora_." There was a faint click, and Black was cautiously pushing one of the doors open soundlessly.

Black waved Heero inside after checking for Death Eaters himself. The elegant antechamber was decorated to near perfection. If Heero hadn't known that Draco came from a wealthy background, it still wouldn't have taken much to assure him of the matter; the foyer alone positively screamed old money. The only imperfection with the antechamber was relatively new; a rather large bloodstain spread across the marble floor, chunks of bloody grey congealed into the liquid. A quick inhale was all Heero needed to detect the faint smell of gun powder that had yet to be masked by the overpowering stench of spoiled blood. Along one wall, Heero's keen sight detected the faint gleam of metal -a bullet casing.

Duo.

"Is that...? Ew. What's floating in it?" Black whispered faintly.

Heero thought that Black probably didn't want to know, but he told him anyway. "Brains. Headshot," he whispered curtly, his mind racing. Judging by the scene, Duo had attempted an escape. Heero expected no less of his boyfriend; the American was never one to bow gracefully before his captors. However, the attempt was probably thwarted, judging by the bloodstain and the casing. Duo only had enough time to get a single shot off... but the accuracy of the shot indicated that he was probably threatening his captors before actually following through. The distance between the bloodstain and the casing also proved that one of the captors was standing at a distance, and Duo would have shot the closest one. Duo's captors had given him a wide space... If they had converged on him, he would have had plenty of time to get off a few more shots before being overtaken. Duo would have put up a rather efficient struggle, but the foyer showed no signs of it. And Duo wouldn't have left Draco behind, so the Malfoy heir was, no doubt, with Duo at the time.

This was Malfoy Manor.

"Hostage," Heero muttered.

"What?"

"Duo took Draco hostage," Heero elaborated. "No doubt using Draco as leverage against Malfoy Senior, who is a Death Eater from what I gather."

"How the hell did you come up with that?" Black demanded.

Heero wasn't about to explain it to him. Instead, he gave the man a sharp glance and continued his path, making sure to avoid the large puddle of blood staining the otherwise immaculate floor. With an irritated grunt followed by a muttered word that sounded a lot like "brat", Black followed behind him.

It wasn't long before they heard voices. Angry voices.

"You mean that mudblooded filth actually took down Jansen? I won't believe it! He doesn't even have his wand!"

"Said he didn't need one. His eyes... If you'd been there, Avery, you would have seen the look in his eyes. That little bastard's dangerous. Didn't even hesitate when he took out Jansen. I'm almost sure he would have done the same to Malfoy's son if we gave him the chance!"

"Theo said they were really close friends -surely, he wouldn't have..."

"Trust me, Nott. He would have done it with a smile on his face."

Nott. One of his roommate's was named Theodore Nott. Either the boy was a Death Eater sympathizer, or he'd just been innocently informing his family about the current happenings at school without any ill intent. The boy didn't say anything that could indicate Death Eater propaganda (besides the general norm for a Slytherin, anyway), but he could have been hiding his allegiance. Heero tightened his grip on his gun as he hovered beside the open door, immediately not liking the odds of a spy sleeping in the same room as them.

"If you are quite finished discussing cold-blooded mudbloods," someone said testily, "and the danger my son was in, we have a duties to attend to. While it's safer to have few of us here, I feel uneasy about leaving our Lord unguarded for as long as we have. Especially when we left that mudblood with his muggle weapon."

"B-but Malfoy... You heard our Lord. He wanted to be left alone with your son and the mudblood."

"That mudblood is dangerous -you said so yourself, McNair. Any punishment I receive for disobeying our Lord's orders would be well worth ensuring his safety."

Right. Heero had heard enough.

Sirius seemed to catch on to Heero's intentions only a second before the Japanese Slytherin executed his plan. If he had any prior warning, he probably would have tried to talk Heero out of it. Instead, he had just enough time to make a low, guttural moan of frustration as Heero rounded the doorframe, took aim with that weird muggle metal thing and-

"What the hell?" Sirius heard Avery gasp... right before the tip of Heero's gun gave off a small explosion that nearly deafened the Animagus. Almost instantly, Heero bore down on the trigger again, eliciting a startled cry from someone who sounded like McNair. The sound of heavy things hitting the floor registered a millisecond later, and Sirius braved a peak around the doorframe to see Avery lying on the floor, unmoving with a puddle of blood spreading underneath his head. Half hidden by a couch, he recognized another Death Eater in much of a similar position.

Heero turned his gun to the other shocked Death Eater; the resemblance between this man and his roommate was almost startling in the quick second it took to size the man up. Same auburn hair and bright blue eyes, the same square jaw. He didn't know what made him intentionally lower his aim and shoot the man's kneecap instead. Later, the Japanese boy would realize he had no desire to see the expression on Theodore Nott's face if he ever heard that his father was dead... killed by Heero's own hand. In any case, he chose to disarm and injure the man instead of killing him.

Even though he felt entirely vindicated in killing the Death Eaters known as Avery and McNair, he couldn't help but feel as if killing them was nothing more than a hollow victory. Keeping the blood off of his hands for over a year was satisfying; knowing that his hand was forced in this left a sour taste in his mouth.

He wasn't sure if he could spare Malfoy Senior the same courtesy when he saw the man raise his wand for an attack. He was already aiming for the man's third eye, his finger easily bearing down on the trigger before Sirius raised his wand and called out, "_Expelliarmus_!" The spell knocked Malfoy Senior off of his feet, the man's wand flying right into Sirius' hand. As an afterthought, the man summoned Nott's abandoned wand to his hand, as well as McNair's wand; apparently the man had enough time to take palm his wand before Yuy killed him. Nott didn't even seem to notice as he desperately clutched his injured knee, biting his own tongue against the pain. And McNair... was a little too dead to really notice much of anything.

Malfoy Senior slowly climbed to his feet, his steel grey eyes spitting cold fire. "Black!"

"Lucius, old boy," Sirius said cheerfully. "So good to see you!" Sirius pointedly didn't look at the lifeless corpse bleeding profusely on the rather expensive looking Persian rug. He expected a lot of things to happen, but he certainly didn't know that Yuy had any intention of _killing_ anyone, Death Eater or not!

"This is my new friend Yuy," Sirius went on in the same glib manner, nodding his head toward the Slytherin. The boy still had his muggle weapon poised, watching Lucius with a hawk-eyed interest. "He's a bit of a brat, really. He's kind of upset you kidnaped his friend... but I'm sure you realized that already."

Malfoy sneered derisively at Heero. "Should have known there would be more like that little monster."

"Where is Duo's wand?" Heero demanded coldly, not bothering to rise to the bait. When it looked like Lucius was going to refuse to answer, Heero continued, "I can just as easily frisk your corpse, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy scowled and looked pointedly at Avery's body. "You can... _frisk_... Avery, then. He was the one responsible for keeping up with the wands."

Wands. Right. Apparently, Draco had been disarmed, as well. "Black, have at it."

Sirius shivered. Creepy kid... but he did as he was told, hesitantly searching through the dead man's robes before he found two wands stuffed in the lining of his inner robes. As an afterthought, he collected Avery's wand in case Nott or Malfoy got any bright ideas.

"Good," Heero snapped. "Now you're going to take us to Duo and Draco. We'll be leaving, unharmed and unmolested, shortly after."

"And what makes you think the Dark Lord will allow _you_ to walk out of here under your own power, boy?"

Heero spared a glance toward the large French windows before he smirked humorlessly. "Those."

Sirius couldn't help but to look, dying to know the ace up Heero's sleeve. He was completely shocked to see five ominous shapes a short distance away, two of which were in a kneeling position while three more seemed to be standing in wait. The moonlight was just enough that he could vaguely recognize that these shapes were humanoid, if a bit oddly dressed in blocky armor. And by the spirits, they were bigger than giants! Even at a quarter of a mile away, it was clear that these things dwarfed the ancestral home of the Malfoys. With a secreted glance toward said Malfoy, Sirius couldn't help but feel a little vindicated by Malfoy's sudden uncertainty. If he were in Malfoy's shoes... ew. Bad thought. In all honesty, if he were in Malfoy's shoes, he'd probably have to kill himself in a messy and violent manner for being such a git.

"What are those creatures?" Lucius demanded, his eyes flittering between the boy with the muggle weapon and the things outside.

"They're not creatures," Heero replied promptly. "They're not even sentient. However, my companions control them. If they don't see Black, Duo, Draco, and myself leave this place in approximately fifteen minutes, they'll assume the worse and demolish your home. Should you refuse to comply with our demands, I'll be forced to give them the signal, and your home will be razed to the ground anyway. Fair warning, Mr. Malfoy -those that see a Gundam or its pilot are usually disinclined to living a full and healthy life. Your only option is to surrender Duo and Draco to us, or die."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes on Heero, as if gauging the truth to the boy's words. Finally, he said, "I don't see how I have much of a choice. I'm beginning to think Maxwell's attitude isn't all because of a pre-genetic disposition to back me into corners."

Heero didn't even smirk. Instead, he moved out of the doorway and motioned for Malfoy to start walking. "Make one wrong move and I'll shoot you in the leg. Any further move to go against me will be followed with a wound you won't be recovering from."

A nerve under Malfoy's eye jumped; it was the only sign to his irritation. Sirius found himself smiling smarmily at the man. "I told you he's a brat."

"Quite," Lucius sniped, moving to lead them to Duo without even sparing a glance for Nott, who looked a little pale because of the blood loss.

How could this have gone so wrong? Lucius silently fumed as he led both the convict and the boy to their desired destination. It wasn't like they were dealing with the bloody Boy Who Lived, who continued to somehow bungle his way out of every plot against his life time and time again. Maxwell was supposed to be harmless! The boy had only less than a year's worth of learning when it came to magic, and Lucius was reluctant to admit that he hadn't counted on Maxwell falling back onto his muggle form of defense. And how had Maxwell's friends found him? They just _had_ to have been similarly skilled in wielding those odd exploding weapons, too. Realizing that Dumbledore had such... powerful looking _things_ like those giant creatures threatening his very home on the side of the Light wasn't a comforting thought, either. To top it all off, his son had decided that _then_ was a perfect time to execute that silly notion of rebellion that Narcissa had warned him all teenagers went through.

Things weren't going exactly as planned, and Lucius was feeling a dire inclination to blame somebody or something. His current choice was Pettigrew; where was that useless lump, anyway? Probably cowering in fear on the upper floors somewhere.

Lucius led them to the closed door of his study, ignoring the sudden tremors that wanted to overcome him. The boy stopped him before he could reach for the doorknob.

"Who's in there?"

"Draco, the Maxwell boy, and the Dark Lord," Lucius said smoothly, casting a glance over his shoulder in hopes of seeing that little bastard in a state of uncertainty. Black, at least, appeared to be a little unsure about coming face to face with the Dark Lord, but the little mudblood bastard had the nerve to not even bat an eyelash at the revelation. Instead, the Japanese boy nodded sharply and indicated that Lucius should open the door before he got impatient.

Lucius, fuming silently (cheeky little _bastard_!), twisted the doorknob and entered the freezing room without actually taking in the scene before him. He entertained himself with images of the Dark Lord putting the insolent whelp through hours of torture followed by a merciless death before he looked up and found his heart suddenly jumping into his throat.

Black cursed vilely, but Lucius really didn't hear it.

A dementor was there, having backed its shivering, frightened victim against the wall. The hood was lowered, revealing such a horrible visage that Lucius had never wanted to see in his entire life. Long, spindly fingers wrapped in sickly, mottled grey-green flesh were cradling the parched face as one would a dear lover. The Malfoy Senior took in unfocused, hazy mercury eyes that were too wide, skin too pale...

And the Dark Lord, instead of stopping the horrifying scene in front of him, was laughing.

"_Draco_!"

----------

Duo did the only thing he could think of doing as the creature moved further into the room, the door eerily swinging to a close behind it. Crude and to the point, it tended to work rather well in the place of diplomacy and pleading.

He raised his gun to it and confidently took aim, bracing himself for the kickback before he fired. The creature jerked back as the sound of the bullet tore through its robes and flesh... but it didn't stop. Neither did Duo. He fired, again and again and again, watching with ever-mounting horror as all the thing did was flinch back with every impacted bullet. No blood fell from the wounds, nor did the creature fall to the floor and stop moving. _Nothing_.

_Fire, smoke, devastation..._

Duo shook his head violently, trying to shake away the sudden images that came to his mind as his body shivered uncontrollably. There had to be a way... There had to be a way to stop it! There was _nothing_ that couldn't be killed, _nothing_ that the God of Death himself couldn't take down!

"You can't kill what doesn't live, Duo," Voldemort said softly, a note of triumph in his voice.

"Watch me," Duo growled, bearing down on the trigger again. The shot rang out, and the American boy celebrated when the creature's head suddenly buckled back... but the exhilarated mood immediately left when he saw that the creature simply straightened itself and hovered forward again. Draco backed away in terror, but Duo couldn't let himself see that... Couldn't let himself see that all of his efforts were useless...

"_Sister Helen!..."_

"_I'll always watch over you, little one... Put faith in my God... He hasn't lost his faith... in you..."_

_The smell of disease and decay as pustule-marked corpses littered the alleys and streets..._

"_Solo!"_

"_Kid..."_

"_Duo."_

"Come now, Duo, don't lose yourself yet."

Again, Duo had to shake himself from the memories of a past he refused to forget, meeting the shadowed red eyes of the monster sitting calmly in his chair as the dementor came ever-so-closer to the shivering Malfoy heir. Not one glimmer of regret or concern was in those eyes. _Monster..._

Voldemort smiled smugly. "I see... So it's the death of the ones you once loved that haunts you. How interesting..."

"Get out of my head," Duo snarled, angrily throwing his useless gun at the dementor, taking little satisfaction in seeing it impact heavily against the creature before falling heavily to the floor. "God damn it, _stop it_!"

_Smoke filled his lungs, painful hacking, burning eyes as he searched the ruins that still burned for signs of life..._

"_Sister Helen! Father Maxwell!..."_

What could he do? He cast a despairing look toward Draco, hating that the usually confident Malfoy heir appeared so defeated and resigned to his fate, hating that the boy whimpered when the creature lowered its hood, revealing a faceless _thing_ with pustules and rotted skin and a sucker-fish, toothless mouth. The Malfoy scion appeared as if he wanted to close his eyes tightly, as if this alone would drive away the monster as its clammy hand clasped around his chin, but the boy couldn't look away from the thing before him, couldn't resist watching as the otherwise sightless thing leaned forward, sucker-fish mouth coming ever so closer to Draco's parched lips.

Duo could hear the distant sound of Voldemort laughing madly echo in his mind...

"_Draco_!"

Duo _snapped_ back into action, suddenly driven by a purpose. His right wrist jerked and the warm comfort of a cylinder slid into his palm. Three hard taps against the table and the hidden scythe was revealed, but there was something different about it that the American hadn't the time or the inclination to notice. Duo pushed power into it, the blade glowing a sickly green as he rushed forward just as the dementor closed its lips around Draco's. Duo swung the scythe, putting everything he could behind the devestating blow as the blade neatly tore through the monster's torso.

The creature tore away from Draco and let out a terrible, soul-shattering moan as the top half fell to the ground, the bottom half tipping forward and hitting the ground with sound thump. The creature _exploded_ in a burst of white light, thousands of tiny dancing wisps of light hovering in the atmosphere before fading completely.

Nothing remained of the dementor, save for a ragged, torn robe.

Draco, trembling violently with the knowledge of how close he came to being dementor food, stared down at the remains of the dementor. Then he roughly wiped his hand across his mouth, resisting the urge to vomit.

"_What did you _do?" Voldemort raged, finally standing from his chair. His eyes were like churning fire from the deepest pits of hell as his monstrous face twisted in absolutely fury.

Duo had no problem matching that gaze. "Don't you dare presume to tell me what can or can't be killed," he hissed, swinging his scythe to point at Voldemort threateningly. "I'm the fucking _God of Death_! Family, friends, the innocent and the guilty! Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, lovers, husbands, and wives have all died by my hands and by my actions! I can kill _anything_! I can even kill you, _Daddy dearest_, and I wouldn't lose a damn bit of sleep over it!"

"Dad," Draco croaked suddenly. Duo's attention snapped to the boy, and he followed his gaze to the doorway. Malfoy, some unfamiliar guy that was looking at Duo fearfully, and...

Duo almost dropped the scythe. "He... Heero..."

Heero Yuy met Duo's eyes, and the American saw... relief. "Deathscythe Hell and Wing Zero are waiting for us," he said quietly. "It's time to go, Duo."

Duo didn't react for a moment, so intent on memorizing every feature of his boyfriend's face. The adrenaline was quickly fading, and Duo's knees felt like they were made of gelatine... but Heero was there, for him. Heero had come; Duo didn't need to worry anymore.

He didn't need to worry anymore.

There was just one more thing...

"Don't ever bother me again," Duo whispered brazenly, glaring at Voldemort. "Don't ever think that just because... you don't have a _right_ to ever approach me again. You are _nothing_ to me. If our paths ever happen to cross again, don't waste your time trying to appeal to me. I won't hesitate to kill you."

Voldemort stared at Duo coldly before finally saying, "Likewise... Duo Maxwell."

Duo nodded sharply. "Come on, Draco. We're leaving."

Draco cast another nervous glance at the empty pile of rags lying in front of him, severed in two. He scrambled to follow Duo to their freedom, forcing himself to meet his father's eyes as he passed by the older man. Instead of seeing the disapproval he feared, he only saw a bland expression that almost made him look away. It was the look in the older man's steel grey eyes that forced him to keep eye contact. His father was... relieved. Regret was there, as well; perhaps remorse over almost witnessing his son and heir lose his soul to a dementor? Whatever that regret was, Draco felt less burdened because of it. His father wasn't angry at him for defying the Dark Lord.

That was enough.

The scythe that had appeared in Duo's hands had disappeared. Heero glanced Draco over for a moment before his eyes went back to his lover, and the Malfoy heir barely paid the tall stranger any mind as Duo and Heero suddenly broke into a dead run, forcing both the stranger and Draco to follow at the same pace.

His father didn't follow. They left the manor unmolested, escaping into the cool night air as they raced across the neatly manicured lawn. Draco almost skidded to a stop when he saw the tall _things_ that stood just outside, two kneeling giants where three more were standing erect. The stranger paused and jostled him, silently urging him to follow the other boys.

"Black, you're with me," Heero said curtly once they reached the base of one kneeling giant that appeared to be made entirely of armor.

"That means you're with me, Dragon Boy," Duo said, not even taking his eyes off of Heero as he tugged the Slytherin into his arms and planted a forceful kiss on the other boy's lips. Heero didn't seem to mind the sudden need for comfort; truthfully, Draco wouldn't be adverse to a hug or two after _this_ shattering experience, either.

"I love you," Duo whispered soulfully once their lips had parted, and the American rested his head against the other's shoulder.

The Japanese boy wrapped his arms tightly around Duo for a brief moment. "Ai shiteru, Duo.(1)" While Draco didn't know what the words meant, it wasn't hard to guess that Heero returned the favor by the sudden look of elation on Duo's face.

Duo kissed Heero once again before reluctantly unraveling himself from the Japanese boy's arms. He tugged on Draco's sleeve before running to the other kneeling, immobile beast. Draco frowned as they arrived at the base; two long ropes dangled from the thing's exposed, open belly. The Malfoy heir found it ironic that he was to apparently willingly put himself in the belly of this beast while avoiding sating the hunger of another.

"Put your foot in the harness," Duo said, slipping his own foot into the loop of the rope, "and hold on tight."

Draco followed his example without complaint, yelping involuntarily as the ropes suddenly snapped, the slack disappearing as he was lifted into the air alongside Duo. Once the rope had brought them up far enough, the American helped him into the exposed belly, which looked more like a grounded chair surrounded by strange, muggle contraptions than an actual stomach.

"Crawl into that space behind the chair," Duo instructed him. "It's a bit of a tight fit, and you won't have a harness, but I don't exactly plan to be doing anything that would require one."

It _was_ a tight space, and Draco couldn't help but to shift uncomfortably as something pressed into the small of his back. He clutched at the headrest that was between his legs, closing his eyes tightly to the sight of the ground below. They were still tilted at an odd angle that was beginning to prove to Draco that gravity was working just fine as Duo went about strapping himself safely into the seat. Once the boy was finished, he reached out and pressed several buttons that caused the hatch to close around them, encasing them in the belly and plunging them into darkness.

"What _is_ this thing?" Draco finally asked when the small space came to life. There were strange, transparent windows that surrounded them, somehow showing them the view outside despite the fact that the walls were rather solid. The thing moved suddenly, and Draco could both see and feel that the giant was coming to its feet. The thing's movement seem to come into accordance with Duo's ministrations; the boy's fingers were flying over odd buttons and switches before the boy finally grabbed the lever in front of him.

"My Gundam," Duo said softly. "It's a war machine, Draco."

War machine...

One of the screens blinked, and Draco was startled to see Quatre's face on it. The Hufflepuff appeared relieved to see that they were both alive and well. "Duo! Draco! Thank Allah both of you are okay!"

A goofy grin spread across Duo's face as he cheerfully said, "Hey, nobody can keep me down! I tell you, Quat, even God knows there's never a party without me!"

Wufei's face appeared next to Quatre's, his disposition almost grim. "I suppose, as the life of the party, you want to take out your frustration on the site before us?"

"Nah," Duo said casually, shrugging. "It's Draco's home. I just want to blow this popsicle stand. You guys ready to split?"

Draco could see Wufei frown at Duo, but the solemn Asian boy merely nodded. "After you, Maxwell."

Duo smiled crookedly. "Always knew you'd follow my lead one day, Wuffers!"

Quatre smiled weakly as the Chinese youth grunted before both screens went blank.

Draco was treated to the discomforting feeling of something rumbling under his derriere before he saw the image on the screens shift away from the manor. The rumbling increased until Duo released a lever, and the imagery on the screens blurred and shifted. They were moving...?

Duo was oddly quiet, and the Malfoy heir found himself biting his lip nervously. "Duo...?"

"Draco," Duo said quietly. "Don't... mention anything to the others. I don't want them to worry. I'll tell them when I'm ready, but... I just want to forget today even happened right now."

"What are we going to tell Dumbledore and his lot?" Draco asked somberly, not even arguing with Duo. He understood why the American preferred to keep secrets for now. Suddenly finding out one's father happened to be who everyone in wizarding Great Britain feared -and with good reason- was a devastating blow. If it became common knowledge, Duo would most likely be treated as if he was carrying some deadly plague, and Draco doubted that even the good graces of the American's fellow Gryffindors would stay in his favor.

"Dumbledore already knows. He called me Mr. Riddle once," Duo said tiredly. "Anyone else beside that... Voldemort wanted you. I just happened to be in the way. It's not lying because I did get in the way, and Voldemort really did want you. I killed the dementor, Heero and the guys showed up, we booked it. Sound reasonable to you?"

"... Well, yes, that might suffice," Draco said slowly, "except that no one's ever killed a dementor before."

"Well, I can't say I drove it away," Duo said irritably. "We don't have our wands... Damn!" Duo quickly pressed several buttons that prompted Heero's sudden appearance on one of the many screens.

"Heero! Did you grab our-?"

"Black has your wands," Heero said smoothly, as if chiding Duo for expecting him to be any less thorough than he was.

Duo grinned crookedly. "What god did I please to ever deserve you, love?"

Draco, driven by curiosity, asked, "Hey, can he see me?"

"No," Heero replied. "You're out of sight. But I can hear you."

Weird.

"Cover story?"

Duo sighed. "You bet. Hee-chan, I... I really don't want to have to explain why Voldemort was dead set on meeting me. I suspect Dumbledore wouldn't be surprised, but... the less I associate myself with that bastard, the better."

"And you can't lie," Heero said calmly. "Understood. You and Draco will report to the infirmary while I explain to Dumbledore and his troupe that you were merely a bystander that got in the way, and Draco was the real target. You'll need to tell me what that thing was and why Voldemort intended for it to kiss Draco."

"It was a dementor," said a low voice that startled Draco. It took a moment for him to remember that Heero was also in the company of a strange man. "The only reason it would lower its hood is to give someone the Dementor's Kiss -basically, Malfoy almost had his soul sucked out of him, but for what reason? Couldn't tell you. I always thought the Malfoys were in good with the Dark Lord."

"Oh, they are," Duo said with a humorless smile. "From the shock on ol' Malfoy Senior's face, he thought so too. Turns out, Voldemort's having a little vanity issue, and it's combined with his fear of dying. I don't know if you've noticed, but Dragon Boy here's a pretty boy, emphasis on both the pretty and the boy parts. He wanted to have Draco's soul removed so he could take up residence in Draco's place. Guess he thought Malfoy the Elder wouldn't have minded. Bastard."

"Right," Heero said. "That's our story. And the others?"

Duo sighed tiredly. "I'll tell Quatre, Wufei, and Trowa when I'm ready to come to terms with it myself."

"And Harry?"

"Would not hurt my feelings if he killed the bastard," Duo said casually. "He doesn't need to know. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are my friends, Heero. I'd rather they see me as Duo Maxwell, quirky American Gryffindor. Not Keary Riddle, Voldemort's wicked spawn."

Heero's Prussian blue eyes softened marginally. "I understand, Duo."

Draco understood, too. For once, he didn't plan to hold such secreted knowledge over a companion's head. Duo had done something for him that he never thought anyone would, besides his own father. That was enough to keep his silence.

They were friends, after all.

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**_

* * *

**(1) "Ai shiteru" -a very passionate way of saying "I love you" in Japanese; it's mostly used in fan fiction, so you'll rarely see it in manga or anime. I almost considered using "suki desu", which is what one would normally say upon the _first_ declaration of love, but ai shiteru is a little more recognizable. I wasn't going to use a lot of Japanese, but it struck me as a Heero thing to do, expressing his love in his native tongue. Couldn't resist.**


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty-Seven**_

As the dawning day broke upon the hallowed castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one could not help but to mentally contemplate on how cheesy the scenery was. Early birds were chirping their cheeriness to all that were willing to listen, the weather was pleasantly chill in comparison to the beaming sun that shone down on the Scottish greenery, and even the Forbidden Forest looked a little less dark and foreboding than it usually did. All and all, if one were to judge an entire day by the first few moments after dawn, things were shaping up to be a lovely day, especially after such a stressful night.

Of course, if it had been dark and wet and miserable with ominous black clouds and flooding rains, it probably still would have looked like a lovely day. At least they were all alive with souls still intact.

"I knew he couldn't have been an ordinary dog. Ordinary dogs don't laugh at seemingly ordinary snowmen."

"Gruff."

"You're just jealous because you're a bad actor, Butch."

"I still can't believe you expect me to swallow some story about Sirius Black being innocent. The Ministry of Magic... Wait. The Ministry is filled with bumbling morons who couldn't find a Death Eater if he bared his arm for all and sundry to see in the middle of the Minister's inauguration parade down Diagon Alley. Sod that, he must be innocent."

The Grim-like dog snorted ruefully.

Draco just wanted to take a long soak in a bubble bath with cucumber slices over his eyes, a lot of deep skin-cleansing treatments, some minor therapy, and a bottle of mouthwash potion. Knowing that a dementor's soul-sucking mouth had been over his not three hours ago made him want to retch violently all over someone else's nice, clean robes. Speaking of which, he would probably burn the clothes he was wearing while he was going at this whole cleansing thing. _Will wash, and wash, but will never feel clean._

A nice, stiff shot of Firewhiskey wouldn't have gone amiss, either.

"I just want to pass out in a bed somewhere," Duo said casually as the group of students and the large dog jogged tiredly up the steps that led to Hogwarts' grand entrance. "Actually, I could probably even do without a bed. I just want to pass out and sleep for the next, oh, month or so."

... Or pass out in a bed somewhere. Draco was feeling a mite too fatigued for the whole spa treatment, anyway. However, the mouthwash potion was a mandatory necessity. _Ewww... Dementor drool..._

"Jeez, Dragon Boy, if you're gonna upchuck, do it the other way."

Draco, perhaps a little green with the threat of losing whatever was left in his stomach after such a horrible night, glared at Duo. "Nice to know you care. Prat."

"Hey! I care!" Duo protested with a laugh. "At least you have your soul. And it's not like it was your first kiss or anything..." At Draco's stricken look, followed immediately by the Malfoy heir running to purge his stomach over the steps, Duo winced sympathetically. "Ew... So I'm guessing I was wrong about the first kiss."

His comment, while he meant well, was followed immediately by a loud, messy heave as Draco's stomach muscles seized up into a tight ball, properly expelling everything that had yet to digest fully.

----------

Harry Potter was disturbed from his hazy, unremarkable dream by the soft-spoken tones of a familiar voice calling his name. He pulled himself into a sitting position sluggishly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he simultaneously raked his hand through his messy, bed-tangled hair, fighting back the urge to yawn as he blinked sleepily at the blurred figure that stood silently beside his four poster bed. It took a moment of squinting for his sluggish brain to catch up.

"Trowa?"

The Slytherin held something out to Harry casually; once again, squinting identified the object as his glasses, which he quickly accepted and slipped onto the bridge of his nose with only minor sleepy fumbling. "How did you get in here?... Did something...?" Suddenly he was wide awake, his nerves on high alert as he imagined the worst possible scenario. "Is it about Duo?"

The tall Slytherin nodded solemnly. "Duo and Draco are back."

Harry let out an explosive sigh of relief.

"Both are in the hospital wing being treated for dementor exposure, and Draco's exhibiting some common signs of shock. They'll be alright. They're resting now," he responded blandly, as if he were reading off a simple laundry list. Even though the news was so clinically delivered, Harry couldn't help but to feel ecstatic upon hearing that both Duo and Draco were relatively okay.

"That's great! When will we be allowed to visit them?"

"Probably later this evening," Trowa replied. "Quatre is with them now, despite Madam Pomfrey's protests about how her sleeping patients don't require a vigil. I came to give this back to you."

Harry frowned as the Slytherin passed him what appeared to be a scrap bit of parchment, but it only took a moment for him to realize what it was. "The Marauder's Map? How did you get it?"

"I borrowed it last night," Trowa explained. "I was also told to inform you that you'll be getting your Firebolt back later this evening. Snuffles doesn't have the time to retrieve it right now, but rest assured, it's in a safe place."

"Wait..." '_I was told'_? '_Snuffles'_? "You know about...?"

Trowa shrugged. "It was pretty obvious."

"Only to you," Harry mumbled, glancing around the room. It appeared that everyone had already left, which was odd; Ron was never one to leave him behind to sleep in, even on the weekends.

"The others were already gone when I got here, but Ron was here a few minutes ago," Trowa said, apparently noticing Harry's small frown. "He wanted to give you a few more minutes of sleep. He said it sounded like you had nightmares all night."

The Gryffindor didn't really remember dreaming at all, but he wouldn't have been surprised if he did have some rather terrible nightmares. He certainly _felt_ like he hadn't rested for more than a few moments at a time during the night.

_Hold on a tick..._ Sirius needed Harry's Firebolt, and Trowa 'borrowed' Harry's map. Add that to the vague recollection that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Trowa, Quatre, Wufei, or Heero moments after the Aurors led the four Hogwarts Houses back to their dormitories... In fact, Hermione had specifically remarked that she didn't see Trowa or Heero amongst the group of leaving Slytherins anywhere...

"You sneaked out of the castle last night," Harry said accusingly. "You ran off to save Duo and Draco." The tall Slytherin boy didn't even bother to deny it. "Trowa! They were kidnaped by _Death Eaters_ -fully trained witches and wizards wouldn't go on such a suicide mission, much less four students who know maybe _two years_ worth of spells!"

Despite what many may have had to say about Trowa Barton, the boy could definitely speak volumes with a single shift in his facial constructs. In this case, an eyebrow rose sardonically, as if saying, 'Hello, Pot. My name is Kettle.' Well, without sounding so _glib_ about it, anyway. "Thus the reason Snuffles came with us."

"Sirius is reckless!" Harry protested hotly. "He's an attention-starved man that's forced to be confined to hiding when everybody knows he can't stand being left behind!"

"He volunteered."

"Thus proving he's reckless!"

"Harry, are you really upset that we left to save Duo and Draco," Trowa inquired pointedly, "or are you upset that we deliberately left you behind?"

"So it _was_ deliberate!" And damn Trowa for being so perceptive, anyway.

"Yes," Trowa said serenely, that eyebrow raising again. "We had one objective -to remove Duo and Draco from a possibly fatal situation without endangering said objective with personal feelings. Enacting any sort of retribution for past misdeeds could have endangered that objective. It was therefore decided that it would be best not to include you on our search and rescue, especially considering the facts. Voldemort has wronged you on so many intimate levels. We didn't have a guarantee that you would show any restraint."

Harry didn't have an argument for that. Would he have shown any restraint even when explicitly told to do so? He didn't know for certain, but he somehow doubted he would have been capable.

That didn't mean he wanted to verbally confirm that to Trowa, though.

The Slytherin apparently saw Harry's reluctant agreement in his face. Trowa nodded thoughtfully, walking to the exit of the dormitory. He paused at the threshold of the doorway, turning only to quietly say, "You, Hermione, and Ron should visit Duo and Draco after dinner. I think they'd like that."

Harry smiled ruefully. "I was planning on it."

----------

Heero was reluctant to leave Duo alone, even if his boyfriend was sleeping for the time being. The last thing he wanted to do was allow Duo to leave his sight so soon after he'd gotten the American back, but he'd made a promise to spin a tale for Dumbledore and his group. While Duo was capable of a few well-meaning half-truths, the American still kept his vow that he would never outright lie.

Dumbledore wasn't alone in his office, though Heero wasn't surprised that the Headmaster was awake this early in the day. The strange woman Sirius called Tonks was present, as well as Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. There were several others whose faces weren't quite so familiar, other than the fact that the ones present were all either Aurors or part of Dumbledore's private militia.

"Headmaster," Wufei greeted stoically, every bit the dignified Chinese scholar as he stiffly took the seat in front of Dumbledore's desk. Heero merely nodded at the man in acknowledgment before taking the seat beside his fellow pilot.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Mr. Chang. I hear the five of you have been on quite the adventure." The old man straightened, seemingly far more solemn than before. "You do realize, of course, that the four of you left school grounds when it was specifically forbidden for you to do so."

Wufei's eyes flashed. "I can assure you that the consequences of our actions were well worth the effort, Headmaster."

"So it seems," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, ignoring the outraged expressions of some of his loyal followers. "Duo Maxwell and Draco Malfoy are now safe with us, once again. May I ask how you managed to find them?"

"Tracker spells," Wufei answered confidently. "We cast them as soon as we found each other again. We won't be separated again."

"I see," Dumbledore replied in good-humor. "How very useful. Sirius has informed me that Draco Malfoy almost had a rather unfortunate mishap with a dementor. Madam Pomfrey's report on his condition confirms a serious case of dementor exposure and shock, while Duo suffers from a relatively mild case of dementor exposure. Tell me, what has happened?"

"Black and I entered Malfoy Manor at exactly twenty minutes after two in the morning," Heero said monotonously. "Duo had already initiated a failed escape attempt by that time. There was blood approximately thirty feet away from the exit, a single bullet casing located near the wall. The scene was relatively fresh, anytime between fifteen to forty-five minutes old. The smell of gunpowder was still in the air. I'd surmised that Duo had used the situation to his advantage; Lucius Malfoy had apparently been present at the time, and Duo had taken Draco as his temporary hostage. A Death Eater, ignorant of the implications of a gun and dismissive of a muggle weapon, had made a move that Duo had taken to be hostile. That Death Eater is dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that such measures had to be taken," Dumbledore said regretfully. "An old man like me never likes to hear how a teenager's hand was forced in such matters."

Heero didn't bother to reply to that. "Black and I moved further down the corridor until we heard voices. Four Death Eaters -Avery, Nott, Malfoy, and McNair. They were talking about what had happened in the foyer. Jansen is the name of the Death Eater Duo killed, as they were discussing the event that had transpired previously. I learned then that Duo and Draco were left alone with Voldemort; however, I knew nothing of the layout to the manor. I decided it would be pertinent to eliminate the loose ends and have Lucius Malfoy lead us to Duo and Draco."

"So you, too, had to take away lives this night," Dumbledore said somberly.

Heero met the old man's eyes evenly. "Avery and McNair felt no pain, though Nott's knee will probably bother him for the rest of his life."

"You killed the others," Tonks said incredulously, as if the thought of someone as young as Heero killing anyone was completely beyond the scopes of reality, "but you left Nott alive? Why?"

"Because Theodore Nott is my roommate," Heero said evenly. "I did not want to be the one responsible for the loss of a relative."

Wufei glanced at Heero then, appearing oddly pensive. "You're getting soft, Yuy."

"That's my business," Heero said, shooting the dark-eyed Ravenclaw a watered down glare. "Theodore Nott sleeps in the same quarters as me. Should he have found out I was responsible for the elder Nott's murder, I would never be able to sleep unguarded. It wasn't the efficient choice. I left the man alive."

"I never said getting soft was wrong," Wufei said, smirking.

Hn. "Black disarmed Malfoy," Heero went on to explain, nodding his head toward the aforementioned man. Black remained quiet; apparently, he was satisfied with allowing Heero to explain. "I informed Malfoy that leveling his family home to the ground was perfectly within our capabilities. Meanwhile, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei were standing by, ready to do just that should I have given them the signal. Malfoy decided to cooperate and led us to Duo and Draco. I stopped him just short of opening the door to ask who was in the room. He told us that Draco, Duo, and Voldemort were in there. I assumed that he was hoping Voldemort could take care of us, but Malfoy was shocked to find that a black-shrouded creature was hovering over Draco. It appeared that the creature was preparing to kiss Malfoy's son, and Malfoy was visibly upset by the scene."

"So the Dark Lord nearly had the son of his favorite Death Eater Kissed?" Lupin asked. "Why?"

"Maxwell said that old Voldemort was having some vanity issues," Black said suddenly. "Wormtail screwed up the ritual that restored his mortality, and really, he should have expected a bunk-up of that magnitude when dealing with an idiot like Wormtail. Combined with his fear of dying, well, the Dark Lord apparently wanted a new body and Draco was 'the prettiest'. I guess it didn't hurt that Draco descends from a pureblood family that's always been a little sympathetic to his cause."

"The dementor had just began the Kiss when Malfoy called out his son's name," Heero went on. "Duo appeared dazed and lost until Malfoy Senior's voice snapped him out of it. From what Black tells me, what Duo did next is supposed to be impossible."

"He killed the dementor," Black said eagerly. "He just slashed at it with this thing he'd been hiding up his sleeve, cutting it right in half. It just burst into tiny white lights and disappeared. I never thought it was possible! Have you ever heard of anything like that, Albus?"

The Headmaster appeared thoughtful and, perhaps for the first time, a little unsure about the report. "I don't recall ever hearing about anything of the sort being possible. To die, something must live. A dementor is not only a terrible creature in that it steals away one's happy memories and feeds on one's soul, but that it does not live. From all reports, the only defense against such a creature is the Patronous Charm."

"What weapon did Maxwell use?" Snape inquired suddenly, his eyes narrowed in thought. Heero considered the man for a moment; according to rumors, the man knew much of the Dark Arts and, in fact, desired the DADA position because of that interest. The man would certainly do a better job than the sniveling idiot that currently occupied that post.

"A scythe," Heero replied. "I don't know where he got it, nor do I know how long he's had it. As far as Duo is aware, it's just a normal weapon. He doesn't know what he did to trigger whatever secret power the scythe holds, or if it holds any power at all."

"What happened next?" Tonks asked eagerly, leaning forward in her seat by the Headmaster's desk. She appeared more than a little enraptured with Heero's account, though Heero didn't know why.

"Duo threatened to kill Voldemort if they ever met again," Heero responded. "Voldemort appeared a little uncertain, as if he didn't know how to interpret Duo's show of strength. I believe Voldemort's reluctance to force that power from Duo when he knew nothing about it is why he let us leave with Draco without any opposition."

"Do you know why the Death Eaters took Duo in the first place?" Dumbledore asked, seemingly innocent. Heero didn't bat an eyelash, positive that the old man knew a lot more about Duo's peculiar situation than he was letting on.

"Crime of convenience," Heero lied with a straight face, taking great care not to give away his lie. He had been well versed on all twenty-three classic signs of lying early on in his training, and he was glad for it. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to fool anyone if he avoided eye contact or blinked rapidly, especially when nearly half of the occupants in the room appeared to be a law enforcement official of some kind. "There were few Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor, and Avery had mentioned something about using Duo as a form of entertainment when the Dark Lord finished with him. He implied that he planned to torture Duo while constantly referring to him as a 'mudblood', though I'm not familiar with the term."

"You're a Slytherin," a tall black man said, obviously suspicious, "and you aren't familiar with the term 'mudblood'?"

The Glare that was directed at the man clearly stated something along the lines of "I don't need spells to disfigure you -and my way tends to be permanent." The man, respectfully decked out in full Auror regale, seemed to tense up at the implied threat behind Heero's steely Prussian blue eyes.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Heero demanded coldly.

"Now, now, Kingsley," Dumbledore said mildly. "You know as well as I do that Mr. Maxwell and these four students before me are relatively new to the wizarding world, and as far as I'm aware, there have been no reports of Draco Malfoy or his fellow sixth year Slytherin students making any slanderous comments about muggleborn students. I also happen to know that Mr. Yuy would never go as far as to lie about what he _doesn't_ know. He's far too proud to even pretend to be ignorant, so when he says he doesn't know what that derogatory word means, he honestly doesn't know."

Wufei snorted. "Yuy and Barton _are_ rather disconcerting to their housemates. It only stands to reason that the Slytherins would tread matters carefully when they are around." The Chinese youth was, of course, looking directly at the man called Kingsley as he said this, obvious condescension dripping from his tone as he eyed the Auror in barely concealed disrespect. It was as if Wufei had taken Kingsley's suspicion personal, but Heero wouldn't have been surprised if Wufei thought Heero was lying, too. The Chinese boy was probably more disgusted over the fact they'd given the man no reason to suspect foul play whatsoever, and the man was _still_ suspicious, instead of angry that the Auror had subtly tried to prove that Heero was lying in the first place.

"So it's a derogatory term for muggleborns, I assume," Heero said flatly.

"You're correct," Dumbledore replied. "Some purebloods believe that muggleborns and halfbloods are tainted, dirtied with muggle blood. It's a severe insult."

Heero snorted. He hadn't felt guilty about killing Avery and McNair, but he hadn't been happy about the necessity of disposing of them. Knowing that they so casually insulted his boyfriend assured that he wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.

"Unless you have any questions, Headmaster," Wufei said, "I believe I'm speaking for both Yuy and myself when I say that we would like to take our leave now. Despite the fact that Maxwell and Malfoy are safe and recovering, I have no doubt in my mind that Yuy would prefer to be in the infirmary with Maxwell."

The man called Kingsley appeared to have wanted to ask more questions, but Dumbledore was quick to say, "Of course, of course..."

"Albus," Kingsley protested, giving the older man a sharp look.

"I am positive that Mr. Yuy and Mr. Chang have both truthfully answered any questions that we had that are relevant to the matters at hand," Dumbledore said warmly. "Both have been very up-front and honest about their activities since they left school grounds, and Mr. Yuy was kind enough to even admit to the fatalities of the Death Eaters due to his hand. The boys have had a very eventful night, and I've no doubt that they would prefer a little downtime now."

Kingsley, far from mollified, reluctantly nodded his head.

"You two may go."

Heero left the office without a second glance, hearing Wufei murmur a quiet, "Headmaster," before the Chinese boy followed after him languidly. It wasn't until they were halfway to the infirmary before Wufei spoke.

"How much was left out?"

"A bit."

"How much was fabricated?"

Heero grunted. "A bit."

"How much is 'a bit'?" Wufei muttered sarcastically.

"Bit. Noun. A small piece or quantity. A unit of information expressed as either a 0 or 1 in binary notation."

Wufei laughed sharply, shaking his head. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

Heero smirked.

----------

"A mild state of shock." Snort.

"Yes, Draco. A mild state of shock. As in, the state you were in when we came in here. It's that thing Madam Pomfrey diagnosed you with, remember?"

"What the hell does she know? _Mild_ state?" Draco said incredulously. "A _mild_ state of shock is what happens when a no-name Hufflepuff beats the Boy Who Lived to the snitch. I'm bloody _traumatized_, which is exactly the state of being that occurs when some ugly git wants to have a dementor suck out your soul because you're _prettier_ than all of the other potentials. There's a difference! A big bloody difference!"

Duo stifled a small grin at the Malfoy heir's incessant complaints. The other boy had been soundly bitching about his so-called "diagnosis made by a fat, aging, completely unprofessional twit who couldn't get a real job in the medical field, causing her to have to resort to Dumbledore's compassion for idiots who can't get REAL jobs in their so-called _speciality_ -and I use that term loosely!" since he woke up. The American figured that Draco was probably venting because of any number of reasons that spanned from anxiety, stress, and a staunch refusal to give himself enough time to come to terms with almost having his soul sucked out by a monster.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to be taking the abuse with a grain of salt. Apparently, she had been assaulted with such strong words from Draco before, to the point where she'd made it her personal duty to not rise to the blond's insults.

"On a lighter note, your complexion's looking a whole lot better," Duo pointed out, amused. "You've definitely lost that broccoli stalk hue. Still a bit pasty, though, but pasty's a good look for you."

Draco glared at Duo suspiciously. "I don't know whether to thank you for the compliment, or yell at you for not taking me seriously."

"Go for the medium -yell 'thank you' while addressing me with some sort of British slang for loser."

"Thanks a lot, you bogtrodding bastard."

"Nice. Bogtrodding. Haven't heard that one yet."

Draco broke out into a reluctantly amused smile. "I aim to please. Now stop trying to cheer me up. It's annoying."

Duo rolled his eyes. "I can't win with you, can I?"

"You got him to stop complaining for about, oh, a minute," Trowa said blandly. "That's a win if I ever saw one."

"If I wanted a comment from the peanut gallery," Draco said haughtily, "I'd ask for it. However, since I still consider you slightly intimidating, you can make any comment whenever you want."

"And Heero?" Duo said with a grin.

"The same."

"Wufei?"

"He wouldn't care if I wanted to hear it or not. He'd say it anyway."

"Quatre?"

"Has Trowa to beat me up _for_ him." Draco threw his hands up in defeat. "Let's face it. _I_ can't win with _any_ of you."

Even Heero had to laugh at Draco's mock anguish.

The two patients hadn't been awake for long, but it was quite obvious that the two of them were a little less weary compared to the condition they'd been in when admitting themselves to the infirmary. Duo had been surprised that all four of his fellow pilots had been in the hospital wing with them for almost the entire time he and Draco were asleep, save for some necessary trips to Gryffindor Tower and the Headmaster's office. Quatre had managed to charm Madam Pomfrey into letting him sleep in the bed beside Duo, though Duo suspected it was the mediwitch that forced Quatre to lay down in the first place. Trowa had crawled into the small bed beside him, sitting against the headboard with the blond sprawled across his lap; the green-eyed boy was casually threading his fingers through Quatre's gold-spun hair as the boy slept even through Draco's loud tirade. Heero and Wufei assured Duo that the Headmaster had been quite satisfied by their report, even if a few of the Aurors present during the meeting were clearly not.

"Harry seems to be under the impression that facing the Death Eaters and Voldemort was extremely dangerous considering how much we're lacking in a magical education," Trowa had said idly after Heero and Wufei had made their comments about how their tale was received.

"That's rich coming from a muggle-raised idiot who's been defying the Dark Lord with his fat head since infancy," was Draco's retort. Duo didn't bother pointing out that the Malfoy heir had sounded grudgingly fond of Harry; the lack of scorn proved that, yes, Malfoy could learn to actually like someone he once vehemently insisted he hated.

Duo was brought out of his pondering when he noticed that others were joining them in the hospital wing -namely the infamous Gryffindor Trio, who seemed to be a little wary that Blaise and Pansy had decided to visit Draco, as well.

The American plastered a wide grin on his face. "Hey, guys! Come bearing the gift of get-well junk food? You shouldn't have!" Even so, Duo was eager to relieve Hermione of her sugary burden. Pansy offered the same to Draco, looking properly miffed that she hadn't been the only one to think of bringing the requisite goodies to typically sick patients.

"So what happened?" Ron asked, straddling an empty chair. "Trowa didn't really go into detail."

"That's what I'd like to know," Blaise added, shooting Draco a knowing glance. "So what big thing did the Dark Lord have planned for you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Blaise. "You mean... Malfoy, you thought the Dark Lord wanted you for something?"

"Thought? No. Was convinced? Yes," Draco replied vaguely, picking over his treats with about as much interest as one possibly could when pointedly avoiding a subject. "And I knew it didn't involve some tacky tattoo, either."

"I was a bit surprised myself," Duo said lightly. "You weren't the target at _all_, Harry. Ol' Voldemort wanted Draco. Go figure, eh?"

Harry was apparently about to ask for an elaboration before a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans pelted him in the back of the head. He whirled around, snapping, "What the hell was that for, Malfoy?"

"For not telling me that the Dark Lord is such an ugly tosser, you git," Draco said accusingly. "Really, Potter, with as much as _you_ natter on about the bloody Dark Lord, you'd think the fact he looks like a pasty snake would have come up!"

"I don't natter on about the Dark Lord!" Harry replied hotly. "I don't think I've ever mentioned Voldemort _once_ since we started speaking civilly on a semi-permanent basis, you conceited prat!"

"Oh, don't mind him," Duo said casually, eyeing a suspiciously colored jelly bean that he'd picked out from his own box of Every Flavored Beans. "Draco's venting at everyone. It's how he deals with something he doesn't want to really think about, much less talk about."

Pansy smirked at the fuming Malfoy heir. "He's got you pegged so well."

"Don't help, Pansy," Draco mumbled, viciously tearing into a Chocolate Frog.

"So what happened?" Hermione said abruptly, looking to Duo for answers. "Harry said something about you two being treated for dementor exposure."

"It's none of your business, Granger!"

"Him more than me," Duo said with a shrug, pretending that Draco hadn't said anything. "Draco locked lips with a dementor."

"I'd try to _kill_ you right now if I didn't know Heero would get to me first," Draco retorted monotonously.

Heero grunted in agreement, prompting Duo into sending his boyfriend a fond smile. Instead of crawling into the bed with Duo like Trowa had done with his own boyfriend, the reserved Japanese boy had settled into a chair right beside Duo, idly playing with the tail end of his braid.

Ron snorted. "Either the Kiss was interrupted, or the theory that Malfoy didn't have a soul to begin with has just been proven."

"I'm sorry your mother dropped you on your head so many times when you were a child, Weasel," was Draco's vicious retort.

"Interrupted," Heero said flatly. "The dementor was... disposed of."

Hermione, sharp as ever, said doubtfully, "Snuffles' Patronous Charm isn't very strong, and it's not exactly something we've covered in the curriculum yet..."

"Never heard of it," Duo said. "I apparently did the impossible. I killed a dementor." He held up the universal victory sign with a cheesy grin. "I rule."

"Professor Lupin said that a dementor can't be killed!"

"Oh, but I subscribe to the concept that everything can die," Duo said, his grin becoming slightly rueful, "which is probably how I did it. I'm stubborn like that, Harry."

"You still haven't explained _why_ the Dark Lord almost had you Kissed, Draco," Blaise pointed out. "We've known he's been planning something for you for quite some time now. Why would he do something like that to the son of his right hand man?"

"Because I'm _pretty_," Draco said, clearly disgusted.

"Draco's young, handsome, and comes from a very influential pureblood family," Duo clarified. "Old Voldemort wanted to remove Draco's soul so he could transfer his own in its place. I guess someone who avoids death as much as that freak will go to the ends of the earth to find a quick cure for time."

"That's terrible," Hermione murmured sympathetically.

"So you actually touched lips with a dementor?" Ron said, leaning forward eagerly. "What was it like?"

Draco's face turned an interesting mix of an angry red and an ill green.

It was Wufei who came to Draco's aid, casually slapping the redhead on the back of the head with a scathing glance. "That's such a ridiculously inappropriate question, Weasley! What are you thinking?"

"It was just a question," Ron said defensively, rubbing the back of his head sullenly.

"A question I would have belted you for if you'd asked Sirius, mate," Harry pointed out quietly. "You have to admit, that was sort of insensitive, even if you don't like Malfoy."

Duo resisted the urge to grin like a lunatic. Draco was speaking fondly of Harry, Harry was defending Draco against his best friend... AND Harry had said 'even if _you_ don't like Malfoy'. Not 'even if Malfoy is a prat' or 'even if we hate Malfoy'. Oh, yeah. They were smitten with each other all right. Next stop: getting the two of them to admit that they actually _liked_ each other, and not in the platonic sense.

"I guess this is the point in time when we make our other delivery," Blaise said with a heavy look toward Pansy. The girl nodded solemnly.

"Other delivery?" Draco said suspiciously, watching as his friend reached into the sleeve of her robes. She pulled out an innocent envelope, passing it to the Malfoy heir somberly.

"This came for you during dinner," she explained quietly, sitting back in her chair. Draco stared at the envelope for a moment, his gaze slightly unfocused.

"Draco?" Duo inquired quietly.

The Malfoy heir didn't even look up from his lap when he replied.

"It's... it's from my father."

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**_


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Cheerios.** **See first chapter for original disclaimer.**

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty-Eight**_

* * *

****

_**My Dragon,**_

**_I know my folly._**

**_It is quite the bitter potion to swallow, my son; as you  
_**_**well know, I am not one to admit to my shortcomings, especially  
**__**when those shortcomings question my ability as a dutiful father  
**__**to a most worthy son and heir. Certain events have led me to  
**__**doubt that the paths I have chosen for you are even conceivable,  
**__**especially after the events that have come to pass this night.**_

**_I never wanted you to be a follower. When my lord assured me  
_**_**that such was not in his design for you, I was mollified and  
**__**grateful, blinding myself to my lord's manipulative nature. Now I  
**__**know that it was his plan to use my reluctance to allow you to  
**__**become a follower against me.**_

**_I never wanted you to be a follower. I never wanted you to  
_**_**be a victim, either.**_

**_I have already cast my lot in with the devil, my son.  
_**_**Leaving the Dark Lord's ranks is not an option for me, as I am  
**__**and always have been so deep in the Circle. I cannot go against  
**__**my lord's wishes, though he has said nothing of what he wants of  
**__**me since he left the manor. I do know that, given the time,  
**_**_Voldemort _will _order me to have you brought home in hopes that he  
_**_**can finish what he intended to do; as your father, Dumbledore nor  
**__**your new friends could do anything to stop me from having you  
**__**sent home. As much as it pains me, my son, I could very easily  
**__**manipulate the situation to have this order carried out.**_

**_It would be best for you if you did not consider coming back  
_**_**home, Draco.**_

**_I have already conferred with your mother on this matter,  
_**_**and she agrees that the solution I have decided on is for the  
**__**best, considering the situation.**_

**_As of this day, you are no longer a Malfoy._**

**_I do this not out of ire or disappointment, Draco, but for  
_**_**your own protection. By removing myself from a position that  
**__**Voldemort can ultimately use to bring you back to his hand, I  
**__**give you a chance to stay far away from his reach... as well as  
**__**my own. The paperwork has already been drawn, documents have  
**__**already been signed and sealed with the official Malfoy Crest,  
**__**and these documents have already been sent to the Ministry. It  
**__**hurts me to do this when I know you are worthy of the name  
**__**Malfoy; perhaps not as much as it hurts you to know the public  
**__**shame of being disowned and left nameless.**_

**_I can comfort you on one thing, my former son. You will not  
_**_**be nameless.**_

**_Along with these documents formally declaring your  
_**_**disownment are a second set of documents for a different sort of  
**__**annulment. As you know, your mother is only connected to  
**__**Voldemort and his Death Eaters through me; she is, thankfully,  
**__**unmarked and free to do as she wishes. We have decided to rescind  
**__**our marriage, and your mother is to take back her maiden name.  
**__**While you are no longer my son in the eyes of the Ministry, you  
**__**continue to remain a part of Narcissa. From this moment until the  
**__**conclusion of the war, you will be Draco Julius Daemon Monroe  
**__**Black. It should be a small comfort to an otherwise terrible  
**__**situation.**_

**_Unfortunately, this strategy will most certainly put your  
_**_**mother at risk. She has chosen to go into hiding until the  
**__**climate is far more sociable, and thus, she will be unable to  
**__**care for you as she normally would. I cannot disclose the  
**__**location to where she has fled, not because I am unwilling, but  
**__**because it would have been unwise of her to inform me. Because  
**__**the unfortunate divorce has left her with a good deal of the  
**__**Malfoy family assets -certainly enough to keep both of you in the  
**__**lifestyle with which you are accustomed- you will not be left  
**__**penniless. Your mother has arranged a generous allowance that  
**__**will be paid to you weekly for you to do with whatever you like.**_

**_I realize, in retrospect, that any olive branch I could even  
_**_**begin to offer would be received with mixed feelings. Narcissa's  
**__**settlement included our property just outside of Bletchingly. The  
**__**wards have been reset to accept you and whoever you choose to  
**__**stay with you. As you know, this means that whoever you find  
**__**unacceptable will not be permitted to enter the borders of this  
**__**property; not even your mother will be able to access the  
**__**property if you do not wish her to. It is imperative that you  
**__**never invite me back to that property, Draco. It would be wise of  
**__**you to consider who you trust and how much the risk would be  
**__**worth inviting them to Delamont's Haven, and that goes doubly so  
**__**for your friends with Death Eater connections.**_

**_That is all I can do for you now._**

**_In the eyes of the Ministry, as well as the rest of the  
_**_**outside world, you are no longer my son. Know that, in my heart,  
**__**I could wish for no better heir.**_

**_Yours,  
_****_Lucius Octavius Ruston Malfoy_**

So. That was it, then.

Draco Malfoy was no more.

His father -_Lucius_- had been right about one thing. The news was received with mixed feelings. It was those warring feelings that encouraged Draco to mentally draw into himself in some dire hope to sort out the whirlwind that raged inside of him.

He was... he was _happy_. His father -_Lucius_, damn it, the man wasn't his father anymore- was not disappointed in him. Lucius confirmed everything Draco ever wanted from the man; knowing that Lucius thought that Draco was worthy, that he wasn't upset that Draco had refused to submit to the Dark Lord... it made him _happy_. Perhaps the happiest he had been in recent memory, in fact. To believe his father did not want the fate the Dark Lord had wanted to force upon him and having that belief confirmed was absolutely uplifting, both in heart and in spirit. His father loved him enough to risk everything to assure that Draco would be safe, even if that meant that Lucius not only had to sacrifice his wife, but risk the possibility that the Malfoy name would not be carried on. On the other hand...

On the other hand.

He was saddened in the knowledge that his father (_Lucius, spirits damn it..._) had to make so many sacrifices because of it. It _hurt_, spirits, it hurt so much knowing that, while Lucius still thought Draco a worthy heir, that Lucius still loved him despite his blatant defiance... Lucius still had to disown him. For his _protection_. And, in disowning Draco, Lucius had to forfeit his marriage with his mother, who also had to go into hiding to prevent harm from coming to Draco through her. Most marriages amongst purebloods were more out of necessity than love. Draco had come to terms with the possibility that such a life would be for him. However, his parents were so obviously in love that most purebloods were jealous of the kind of fondness the two had for each other.

Yes, Draco was hurt. Only a small portion of that hurt was for the loss of his last name; the majority belonged to how much his father had to sacrifice to assure that Draco was safe, at least until the Dark Lord could devise a different method of getting him if the monster was absolutely hellbent on having him...

Draco was startled from his jumbled thoughts by a soft, comforting hand touching his shoulder. He shook himself from his pensive mood and glanced wearily up at the blond that had silently gone to his bedside. Draco didn't even know Quatre had woken up; the last he'd seen of the other boy, the Winner heir was sleeping next to the comforting warmth of his boyfriend.

Quatre's other hand absently rested over his breast, a small furrow on the other boy's brow. "How can you be so happy and sad at the same time?"

Draco was reluctant to put his feelings into words, and he doubted he could say anything at that point without either laughing hysterically or blubbering or probably both. Instead of replying verbally, he handed Quatre the letter wordlessly.

"What is it, Quat?" Duo asked quietly. Draco had completely forgotten that he had an audience. He didn't dare look at any one of them for fear of showing any weakness, choosing to stare resolutely at his lap instead.

"Lucius Malfoy is trying to protect Draco the only way he knows how," Quatre said quietly. "For fear of Voldemort ordering him to have Draco brought back, Lucius has decided to cut all ties with Draco."

"What does that mean for Malfoy?" Harry asked, though it sounded like the Boy Who Lived already suspected what that meant. Draco flinched violently at Harry's form of address.

"It means you can't call him Malfoy anymore," Quatre said gently, his hand squeezing Draco's shoulder lightly. "Lucius has removed himself from a position that could be used to bring Draco back to Voldemort. Draco's been disowned."

"Bloody hell," Weasel muttered, sounding oddly sympathetic. "He's left you without a name?"

"No," Quatre answered for Draco, squeezing his shoulder again. "Lucius and his wife have decided to annul their marriage so Draco can have his mother's maiden name. Narcissa has also chosen to go into hiding in case the Dark Lord tries to harm her, as well."

Despite what Lucius had written in his letter, knowing that Draco had not been left nameless was more than just a small comfort. Those forsaken by their blood kin in the past, having both name and privilege stripped from them by the heads of their respective families... they never prospered well in the wizarding world, where a last name certainly carried weight, be it muggleborn, pureblood, or otherwise. There were several cases that Draco knew of in which otherwise talented, competent individuals who were cast from their families lost not only their entitlement to an inheritance, but their jobs, friends, and very livelihood, as well. Family was everything in the wizarding world; to shame one's family in such a way that drastic measures had to be taken left a bitter stigma on the one being disowned. While Draco's disownment was bound to become public knowledge and create some scandal, having a new name courtesy of his mother's ilk would not call for the enforcement of such practices. Otherwise, Draco would never be welcomed back to Hogwarts, no matter what the Headmaster would have had to say about it. The only way for Draco to survive would have been to leave the wizarding world entirely, and that was a sacrifice that Draco would not have been able to endure when he knew nothing of muggle culture or muggle practices.

"It's the only way to keep Draco safe?" Duo inquired solemnly; it was a rare moment in history when the American Gryffindor could be found in such a mood.

"From Lucius' end," Quatre replied. "The rest will, of course, be left to us."

Draco glanced at Quatre, surprised. "You don't-"

"You're our friend," Trowa replied, cutting off Draco's automatic protest. "We don't let friends muddle through on their own."

"You should know that by now, Dray," Duo said with a lopsided grin. "I don't leave my friends behind. _Ever_."

Draco couldn't stop the rueful smile that crossed his face at Duo's words, his mind immediately summoning the memory of Duo facing the Dark Lord, brazenly defiant as the American refused to leave Draco in Voldemort's hands. Duo was wrong to be uncertain about being in Gryffindor. While Draco knew that the violet-eyed boy was amazingly Slytherin when he had to be, the former Malfoy heir knew for certain that Duo was Gryffindor to the core.

"How can we be sure that Voldemort will be so determined to achieve his goal?" Wufei asked suddenly, a frown on his bronze face. "He can just as easily find someone else to possess."

"Trust me," Harry said dryly, "that git is tenacious. Once he's gotten an idea in his head, he'll never let it go. Voldemort won't settle for anything less than his first choice. Bastard probably thought long and hard about who would provide the proper host, and from what I last saw of the Death Eaters, none are as good-looking and influential as Malfoy and his kin."

"Aw, Potter," Draco cooed mockingly, slanting a smug grin at the Boy Who Lived, "you think I'm good-looking?"

Weasel, of course, jumped to Harry's defense when the green-eyed Gryffindor appeared too flustered to comment immediately. "Shut your gob, Mal -bloody hell, what's your mum's maiden name so I can yell at you properly?"

"Because you just can't call him by his given name," Duo said sarcastically, shaking his head in wry amusement.

"I'd hex him if he did," Draco retorted with a disgusted glare aimed directly toward the Weasel.

"Narcissa's maiden name is Black," Harry said hurriedly. "She's Sirius' first cousin. I remember seeing it on the Black Family Tapestry. I can just see Snape cringing at the thought of his favorite student going by the same name as the man he hates as much as, if not more than, my father."

"Speaking of the new Draco Black," Pansy said meaningfully, catching everyone's attention once more. "You're going to have to do a lot of damage control to remain the Slytherin's Prince."

"Exactly," Blaise replied with a sharp nod, his eyes narrowed in thought. "The Malfoy name is gold in Slytherin, literally and figuratively. Being disowned has the potential to cause some serious power shifts within the house itself. No matter what, people are going to realize that you've turned your back on the Dark Lord; and we don't know where everyone stands on that matter."

"We already know that Julian McAllistar and his crew aren't exactly my biggest fans," Draco noted with a disgusted scowl. "It's safe to say that I'll be getting nowhere with anyone from his group. As for everyone else?" Draco snorted. "It won't take them long to realize that being stripped of the name Malfoy doesn't make me any less the ruthless, smarmy, best looking bastard this school will see for a _very_ long time."

Pansy smirked, nodding her head in agreement.

Blaise merely raised a single eyebrow. "Best looking?"

Draco smirked superiorly at his fellow Slytherin rival for best-looking bloke at Hogwarts. "I'm the handsomest, smartest, and most charismatic bloke Slytherin has to offer. Why do you think the Dark Lord wanted to be me? Of course, I don't blame him. Who _wouldn't_ want to be me?"

Any further preening was abruptly halted when Duo burst into an irrepressible fit of maniacal laughter, feebly clutching at his stomach as he pointed at the varying expressions on the Gryffindor Trio's faces. Granger appeared as if she were stuck between being dumbstruck and incredulous that Draco would ever make such a claim. Harry, obviously expecting a declaration similar to that from spending time with the former Malfoy heir, merely shook his head as he rolled his eyes at the blond's gall. Weasel's expression was the most amusing, by far; the redheaded lout's jaw had dropped, agog at the prospect that Draco thought so well of himself when the Weasel clearly thought so little of him.

"If you could only see the looks on your faces," Duo cried, still giggling. "Oh, God, my sides!"

"Weren't you just complaining about how being so good-looking put you on Voldemort's list in the first place?" Wufei said critically.

"Eh, beauty." Draco shrugged, smirking. "It's both a blessing and a curse."

"You would take this opportunity to overinflate your already massive ego, Draco," Harry pointed out dryly, shaking his head once again.

Draco ignored the funny little flip that stirred in his belly when his given name rolled off Harry's tongue in such a casual manner, silently insisting that the strange feeling was the remnant of his earlier nausea. It was the only explanation; he distinctly recalled Harry taking such liberties with his name before, and while it had made him feel a little discomfited at the time, it hadn't actually affected him in that manner. Instead, he took the time to roll his eyes in exasperation at the Gryffindor. "You're never happy, are you? First, I'm always too bloody pessimistic. Then when I try to be optimistic, you insult my character. Tell me, _Harry_ -where _is_ this bright side you often speak of?" And Draco made damn sure to put a little extra emphasis on Harry's given name, carefully watching the Gryffindor for any peculiar reaction.

The former Malfoy heir was not disappointed; a look of surprise contorted the green-eyed Gryffindor's features for only a moment, some nameless emotion flickering to the surface of Harry's fathomless green eyes, only to disappear again before Draco could really put a name to it.

"As much as I hate to fuel your narcissism," Harry said after he recovered, smiling ruefully, "you're right. You were trying to be optimistic in your special little egotistical way, and I shouldn't discourage that."

Draco blatantly ignored everything before and after those two special little words he always loved to hear. "Hear that, Blaise, Pansy? I'm right. Harry says so."

The two Slytherins snorted in amusement. Pansy even went as far as to look to Harry with a vaguely pitying expression. "He's a stubborn git, Potter. Trust me, you can't win with him."

"That's right," Draco replied smugly. "You can't win with me."

Which just prompted Duo into another laughing fit that took quite some time to settle down from. Consequently, Duo's hilarity prompted Madam Pomfrey to bossily shoo anyone who wasn't a patient out of the Infirmary, and this time she managed to win the brief battle of wills that occurred between her and one Heero Yuy.

Of course, she might not have succeeded in that situation if it hadn't been for Duo, who decided that even Perfect Soldiers -whatever that was- needed to rest after thirty-five straight hours, most of which were spent in what Duo referred to as "pre-mission mode, mission mode, and post-mission mode."

"Go! Sleep! I promise I won't get myself kidnaped in the few hours you won't be here. If I do, you can say those words I hate so much."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "I told you so?"

"Those are the ones," Duo affirmed smartly. "Now give me a kiss and carry yourself to bed before you get cranky. I'd hate to be the one to tell the Headmaster you shot some poor bastard who peed in your Cheerios because you didn't get your forty winks in."

Trowa and Wufei snickered quietly at the end of Duo's rant. Draco suspected their amusement had something to do with the word 'cranky', which wasn't the first term to come to mind when dealing with the image of an irate Japanese Slytherin. In retaliation, Heero threw a dirty glance over his shoulder before he obediently leaned over and planted a soft, chaste kiss on the American's upturned lips.

"Oyasumi nasai, koi.(1)" Draco frowned to himself at Heero's words. Despite living in the same room with the Japanese Slytherin for almost a year, he always seemed to forget that English was only Heero's second language. Heero didn't often use his native tongue; in fact, he recalled Heero only ever slipping into Japanese once before, when he murmured those words that made Duo's face light up after the violet-eyed boy professed his feelings for Heero.

"'Night, Hee-chan. 'Night, guys."

Once assured that everyone who wasn't a patient of hers had left, Madam Pomfrey nodded her approval sharply before she busied herself with checking Duo and Draco's vitals, along with critically watching the both of them gulp down some nasty concoction that Draco was almost positive did nothing but leave a bad taste in his mouth. After being assured that the potion was merely something that reduced stress and decreased the likelihood of nightmares that could spawn from said stress (since Duo flatly refused to consume the Dreamless Sleep Potion, muttering something about not liking how that potion made him feel sluggish and unalert), the mediwitch bid them a terse goodnight before she dismissed herself through a pair of doors, dimming the lights of the infirmary with a wave of her wand.

Duo immediately turned in his bed to look at Draco, a wicked gleam in his dancing violet eyes. Draco was beginning to think such a look coming from the American was never a good sign.

Unfortunately, he was right.

"So," Duo said with a smug grin. "You and Harry."

"Not a word, Duo," Draco growled.

"Were you flirting with him?"

"Duo, no. Just no."

"It sounded like you were flirting with him."

"Duo!"

"I call it as I see it, man. That definitely sounded like flirting."

"Shut up, Duo!"

The American sighed wistfully, but he said nothing more after that. The former Malfoy heir thought it was finally safe to relax and sleep until he heard Duo's infernal humming of a familiar childhood taunting song.

"Duo," Draco snapped. "No!"

Apparently, Duo didn't even know the meaning of the word 'no' because he soon began to sing, "Draco and Harry, sittin' in a tree. F-U-C-ACK!"

Something clattered noisily on the floor. For a brief moment, there was silence.

And then Duo said incredulously, "Did you just throw a _bedpan_ at me?"

"Go to sleep, Duo."

"You did! You threw a bedpan! At _me_!"

"If you don't shut up and go to sleep, I'm going to garret you with that blood mediwitch's stethoscope, just see if I don't!"

"I'd tell Heero on you if I didn't think he'd laugh at me. _He's_ never thrown a bedpan at me."

Draco growled roughly, turning his back to the chatty American and angrily stuffing his pillow over his head. He couldn't help but wonder if Duo would explain to Dumbledore that the reason Draco viciously attacked some Hufflepuff ninny was because of crankiness, due to the fact that Duo didn't know how to shut up and let volatile people like Draco get his forty winks in.

Probably. And the American would explain Draco's behavior with a smile on his face, too.

_Pillock._

_**END CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**_

**(1) "Oyasumi nasai, koi." Translated, it means "good night, love." :_grins sheepishly_: Yeah, I know. I promised I wouldn't abuse the Japanese TOO much.**


	29. Chapter TwentyNine

_**Harry Potter and the Secret Link  
**__**Capricious Purple Clarity  
**__**Chapter Twenty-Nine**_

Draco and Duo's kidnaping and subsequent escape was the only thing anyone at Hogwarts spoke about; somehow, the facts of the matter actually mutated into blatant lies, and soon the rumor mill was absolutely positive that Draco and Duo hadn't been kidnaped by Death Eaters, but wild giants who had planned to ransom them for powdered bones to make their bread instead. According to the grapevine, it was only Duo's annoyingly cheerful banter that distracted the giants long enough for Draco to hex the nearest one with a dark curse he'd learned as a mere child under the tutelage of his former father.

"As if giants were smart enough to organize a kidnaping attempt in the first place," Draco scoffed when an eager third year Slytherin asked what kind of dark curse Draco used to subdue a clan of giants long enough for the two of them to escape.

It was only a week before the rumors trickled to a stop, the students of Hogwarts moving on to bigger and better things to gossip about. Draco, of course, had been scandalized for two important reasons, one of them being that he'd quite liked being the talk of Hogwarts for once, especially since he was cast in such a favorable light. In his opinion, it was about damn time his magical prowess had been rightfully noted, despite the fact that he really hadn't taken out a whole clan of giants with a single curse.

He found no sympathy with Harry. "How can you stand it?" Draco had complained to the Gryffindor irately. "Year after year, you go off and do something death-defyingly stupid -willingly, might I add- and they sing your praises for all of a week before Lavender Brown's failed attempt at wooing the untouchable Terry Boot becomes the next big thing!"

"Practice," Harry replied ruefully, rolling his eyes. "Patience. Right now, I'm just happy to not be involved at all." The green-eyed Gryffindor paused suddenly, glancing at Draco shrewdly. "Is 'defyingly' even a word?"

"It is if I say it is," Draco replied snottily. Harry wisely decided to spare himself the headache of incurring another snit fit courtesy Draco the Drama Queen (as he'd secretly come to call the Slytherin) and didn't argue the matter further.

The other reason Draco hated the fact that his fifteen minutes of fame had faded was because it gave people a lot more time to talk about Draco's subsequent disinheritance. That was the _last_ thing he wanted to deal with, even though he had known it would be inevitable. The announcement of the former Malfoy heir's new status had actually made front page news in the Daily Prophet, going as far as to include Narcissa and Lucius divorce, Draco's new status as a Black, and the last disinheritance in wizarding history. Muggleborns seemed confused as to why this was so newsworthy, even if most of them probably thought Draco deserved it (and sod them, anyway). Halfbloods and purebloods who had something against the Malfoys and their ilk were eager to explain the importance of such an announcement. To have one's birthright taken away from them in such a degrading manner was like an informal declaration that the disinherited was worthless and was meant to be seen as such by the wizarding world as a whole. Draco's only saving grace was that his mother was willing to sacrifice her marriage to assure that Draco didn't get kicked out of school and ostracized by the wizarding world completely.

Speculation ran wild about the events that had to have played out for Lucius to go so far, but most assumed it was because Draco had become close friends with two Gryffindors, a Ravenclaw, and a Hufflepuff. Draco could only feel somewhat vindicated about this little reminder by noting that everyone knew he still pretty much despised Weasel and barely tolerated Granger, and they were therefore not included on the friendship parade.

McAllistar, as predicted, was absolutely gleeful in reminding Draco of his lost status. The former Malfoy was quick to prove to the seventh year that, while Draco was no longer a Malfoy, he was still a Black. Despite the stigmata attached to the name, care of Sirius Black, it was a name of equal status to the Malfoy family. The Black family was certainly higher in status than the McAllistars.

A few well thrown hexes that caused vicious boils and disfiguring warts helped, too.

Draco remained the Slytherin Prince, if a little... tarnished. He supposed, in retrospect, that was probably the best he could really make of the situation.

Duo, of course, had no problem with the details of the events occurring on Valentine's Day fading from everyone's memory, mostly because Draco suspected Duo got tired of answering the nosiest people's questions without really answering. In fact, Draco was pretty sure Duo was running out of non-answers pretty damn quick, especially when the American Gryffindor started staring at people blankly and murmuring, "El gato?" before wondering off to leave the surrounding people to puzzle over the non sequitur.

"You should take that to mean he doesn't want to talk about it anymore," Quatre said delicately as he passed the confused gossip-mongers. Eventually, the Winner heir's words were heeded, and Duo was happy to spend his free time hanging around Heero.

Speaking of the Japanese Slytherin... Heero had been acting somewhat odder than usual, spending a majority of his free time juggling between doting over Duo and scouring the library for various books on past legal matters handled by the Wizengamot. Draco cautiously decided that his actions could be explained away by one of two reasons. Either the Slytherin was considering a future in wizarding law, or Heero was attempting to find loopholes in laws that he could take advantage of should any future incidents call for it. Going by how tenacious the Japanese boy could be, Draco was actually hoping for the former; he felt he could use a really good solicitor in the future, and Heero was more pertinacious than anyone had any right to be at his age.

When Draco bothered to ask Duo about it, the American's reply was something along the lines of, "Hee-chan's just ensuring that the exact details of what occurred you-know-when won't slip from outside parties. It just means he loves me."

"Proving your entire government is filled with morons is bonus," Wufei said scornfully. "If ignorance is bliss, the Ministry of Magic must be _paradise_." One could only assume the Chinese youth had something against incompetent people in positions of power for him to verbally denounce the Ministry, though Draco didn't blame him. In any case, Draco cautiously took this to mean that Heero was doing a favor for his boyfriend and left it at that. He _really_ didn't need to know.

Draco felt a heavy sense of relief when all talk of his disinheritance ceased once students realized that the exams were so near. This relief was immediately followed by panic, since he, too, was one of the students guilty of forgetting about the tests. While OWLs had made all tests before fifth year seem like cakewalks in comparison, he had no excuse to slack off and risk academic failure. Unfortunately, he was lacking in appropriate study partners. Blaise and Pansy had taken it upon themselves to attempt the impossible and drill knowledge through Vince and Greg's thick heads in hopes that the two would manage at least below-average scores instead of their usual "by the skin of their teeth" approach. Draco wished them good luck and quickly bailed on that endeavor; he'd learned long ago that, unless the cramming started months in advance, there was no way those two were going to prepare Vince and Greg for the tests in time and still expect to receive good marks themselves. Draco decided taking the every-man-for-himself approach was the right choice for him; he'd already exhausted his selflessness quota for the year.

Unfortunately, going to Duo, Heero, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei for studying didn't quite go as he'd planned.

"They're making you take OWLs?"

"Oh, the tests are slightly adjusted to include sixth year material, as well," Duo said, surprising Draco by not even looking up from his book.

"However, without our OWLs," Quatre added, "we can't take our NEWTs. Without our NEWTs, we can't graduate. It completely defeats the purpose of schooling here if we can't graduate."

Well, damn. _There went that spectacular plan_, Draco thought sourly. He'd almost resigned himself to studying alone and hoping for the best when his silent contemplations beside the Black Lake later that evening was disturbed by none other than Harry Potter.

"Duo said you're looking for someone to study with," the green-eyed Gryffindor prodded hesitantly, tugging on the worn sleeve of the ghastly green jumper that displayed the first letter of his name in gold. Draco considered asking Harry if he forgot how to start his own name off often, but decided that it wasn't worth the effort considering he and Harry were supposed to be doing that... friend thing. Well, that and Harry had taken up an awful habit of smacking Draco whenever the former Malfoy heir said something that could be considered offensive. He didn't particularly want or need that headache, thank you very much.

"Duo has an atrociously big mouth," Draco drawled instead, drawing back and throwing a moderately sized rock toward a barely visible tentacle of the Giant Squid. He missed only by several inches. "What are you getting at, Harry?"

"Why don't you ask Zabini and Parkinson?"

"Because they've decided that Crabbe and Goyle might be able to pull off more than they actually can if both of them help those poor sods, and down that road lies too many headaches and the possibility of academic ruin this late in the year."

Harry didn't say anything against Draco's prediction, proving the point that Vince and Greg's academics -or lack thereof- were legendary. "Hermione wants to know if you'd like to study with us. Apparently, you're in her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes, and she feels she'll be more prepared if she actually has someone who knows the material go over it with her. You'll have someone reasonably intelligent to study with, and the benefit to her would be likewise."

Study... with Granger and the _Weasel_? Draco didn't know how many times he had to emphasize his point; just because he was on a friendly basis with Harry did not mean he in any way appreciated the company of a Weasley and a muggleborn! Hell, he'd just gotten out of the habit of mentally referring to her as 'the Mudblood' every time he was forced to even look at her, not to mention the fact that he still hoped Weasley would fall off the face of the earth one day in the near future. He was just about to tell Harry to inform Granger where to shove her invitation when he paused.

Despite the natural animosity between Malfoys and muggleborns in general, Draco couldn't help but to secretly confess to himself that he'd been dying to crawl around in Granger's big head for years. The girl was beyond mere intelligence; she was a budding sixth year whose genius was already legend amongst the Who's Who of Wizarding Society, all of whom were eagerly anticipating the day of her graduation so they could see which career she would decide to pursue. Even his father, whose hatred for muggles and all things muggle-related was widely known, grudgingly admitted that her mind would be a terrible thing to waste, especially if her talents were applied to something useful.

Getting a chance to see how Granger ticked verses spending a few grueling weeks in the company of Ronald bloody Weasley.

... Damn it.

"Fine," Draco mumbled grudgingly, half-heartedly tossing another rock into Black Lake. There was no need to sound too eager. "When and where?"

Harry's jaw snapped shut; Draco was privately amused that the Boy Who Lived was left gaping at him for a moment in the first place. There was a sort of twinkle in his myopic green eyes that left Draco feeling a little uneasy. Spirits above, the prat couldn't honestly believe that Draco had agreed because he actually wanted to spend time with his little friends, could he? Judging by the bright smile, the answer seemed rather obvious.

_What an idiot..._

Draco couldn't decide if his private insult was directed at Harry for being so damn noble and _Gryffindor_, or himself for being reluctant to wipe that soppy grin from Harry's face by bluntly stating his real reason for accepting Granger's invitation. In the end, it all boiled down to him with an appropriate study group that happened to be blemished by the unfortunate presence of Weasley.

After facing the Dark Lord and basically telling him to piss off right before liplocking with a bloody dementor, Draco felt that he could deal with that. Probably.

Maybe.

... Bollocks.

----------

Well. That was...

Well.

Judging by the shade of fury that twisted Ron's face as he stomped upstairs in a snit, followed by Hermione's bitter incoherent muttering that included words like "slimy, evil, vile, snotty little prat of a Slytherin" strung together in a sentence that was clearly a list of all of Draco's more annoying traits, Harry thought he probably owed his two best friends a rather large debt. Not one of those wizarding debts, either; an honest-to-God sign-away-the-rights-to-his-firstborn-son debt.

It became rather obvious early on in the study session that Draco Black was used to dealing with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle for study partners, and the method he used in dealing with the rather thick duo when it came to studying was promptly employed in dealing with Ron. Not only that, but Hermione and Draco had gotten into more than one heated discussion about various subjects that would have normally bored Harry and Ron into tears if not for the fact that Harry had been listening to the heated battle of words attentively, completely fascinated by the passion the two felt about school. A quick glance at Ron during one of the more explosive moments between Draco and Hermione showed that, while pissed off, the youngest Weasley son was just as enthralled by someone butting heads so fiercely with Hermione. Even if the one doing the butting was Draco.

Draco had been channeling Snape. Snape with a smarmy know-it-all smirk and scathing wit peppered with frequent insults... It was _exactly_ like Snape, minus the smirk. The smirk was all Draco.

"Um," Harry started and, receiving a sharp glare from Hermione, immediately stopped whatever he was going to say. That was actually a good thing, since he hadn't any idea as to what he was going to say to the irate girl in the first place.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Hermione almost _snarled_, which kind of made Harry want to look for an isolated corner to huddle fearfully in. He'd never heard Hermione use such a venomous tone before, and the action scared the hell out of him.

"I thought it was going to be pretty bad. Mal-Bla-_Draco_ is an unrepentant prat on his better days," Hermione ranted. "He's inconsiderate of other people's feelings, argumentative, insulting, vile, haughty to the point that it would drive a saint into contemplating vicious torture, and... and... he has stupid hair!"

Harry blinked. "Um...? I owe you one?"

The distraught Gryffindor threw herself on the couch before the fire and buried her face miserably in her hands. "That's just the thing, Harry -you don't owe me one."

"Er, Okay?" Well, what was he supposed to say to that?

"Because even though he's inconsiderate, argumentative, insulting, vile, haughty, and has stupid hair," Hermione bemoaned, "he's the best study partner I've ever had. Beneath all of the insults, we managed to not only figure out a lot of heavy material in both Arithmancy and Magical Runes that both of us struggled with individually, but I've inadvertently realized that I don't do as well in Potions as I do in all of my other classes because, while potion-making requires precision, there's a lot of room for adjustments that I didn't realize previously. It's always bothered me that I excel in Potions Theory when I'm average in practice."

God. It actually sounded like Hermione had a grudging respect for Draco. Harry flickered a quick glance out of the nearest window in hopes of catching a quick glimpse of the Four Horsemen before the Apocalypse destroyed the world. Harry really didn't like it when end-of-the-world moments popped up suddenly, and he felt he should be prepared for the event.

"You do realize, however, that you might owe Ron your firstborn," Hermione said pointedly, giving Harry a look that spoke volumes.

"You're damn right he does," Ron said hotly as he came stomping down the stairs, his red hair dark and damp from the recent shower to wash away the slime that had accumulated on his skin due to prolonged exposure to Draco. Duo was right behind Ron, his violet eyes glittering in suppressed amusement.

"His name will be Ulnid, and he'll be my servant-slash-minion for the rest of his natural life. Congratulations, Potter, you've condemned your firstborn to a lifetime of menial tasks and enforced slavery," Ron said smartly.

Duo snickered. "So I'm guessing it went about as well as expected."

Pillock. It was Duo who had planted the notion of inviting Draco to study with them that influenced Harry's pleading with his friends and asking Draco in the first place. Harry hoped that Duo was very happy about Ron taking his firstborn.

"Better for me," Hermione said grumpily. "Terrible for Ron. Draco seemed to have been under the impression that insulting Ron every other sentence was an excellent way to get Ron to learn what _levisticum officinale_ is."

"Oi, I know what that is," Ron said defensively. "It's lovage, a kind of wonky herb in the carrot family that can be used both in cooking and medicine."

Harry nodded absently, not even thinking as he added, "Yeah, it's really effective in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts because it causes inflammation in the brain.(1)"

Duo was blatantly grinning, and Hermione looked a mite cross. It wasn't until Harry realized the two of them were looking at him and Ron pointedly that he actually realized he and Ron had just easily spouted off something that had to do with Potions.

Harry gaped at Ron, seeing the expression on his own face mirrored by the one on his best friend's face.

"Where did you two learn that?" Hermione demanded suspiciously.

Harry bit his lip guiltily, letting Ron answer for him when he said, "Well, Mal-Bla-that bloody git said it. It was kind of hard to miss, since he was insulting me. _Again_."

Hermione snorted in disgust and said the last two words Harry expected to hear come out of her mouth. "Bloody hell, the prat actually got them to retain something using the Snape method. A highly reformed version of the Snape method, but the Snape method nonetheless."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Er, does this mean...?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione sighed despondently. "Draco bloody Black must continue studying with us until exams are over. And we'll have him next year for NEWTs, as well. Tough luck, but your future selves will thank you for it."

Duo chuckled wickedly. "What if he already has plans to study with someone else next year?"

"I don't care. I'll tie him up and lock him in a broom closet if I have to," Hermione said sharply, pointing at Ron and Harry. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to these two when it comes to learning. We're stuck with him."

"Damn it," Ron grumbled, sending Harry a half-hearted glare. "I hate you so much right now."

Harry grinned sheepishly and decided he didn't blame Ron for hating him even just a little bit. If he were in Ron's shoes, he was pretty sure he'd hate himself, too.

"Hey, Harry. Mind if we chat for a bit?" Duo said lightly after Ron and Hermione went to bed. Harry had almost forgotten Duo was there, which surprised him a little since they must have been sitting in silence for more than a few minutes, Harry staring into the fire as he contemplated the unexpected success of inviting Draco to study with them despite Hermione and Ron's reluctance. The American didn't make a habit of allowing for long moments of silence, even though Harry had noticed a suspicious lack of loquaciousness on Duo's behalf recently.

"Does this involve me owing you my firstborn son, too? Because Ron's got a prior claim to that," Harry said ruefully, grinning at the violet-eyed Gryffindor.

Duo laughed lightly. "Nah, nothing like that. I'm really not into minions much."

Harry couldn't help but to wonder about the bitter tone in Duo's voice. No matter how hard the American attempted to hide it, something had been bothering the other Gryffindor since the Death Eaters had kidnaped both him and Draco. Harry suspected it had something to do with Duo's lack of success in repeating what he had done to destroy that dementor that almost gave Draco the Kiss. He'd seen Duo practice with his scythe often, but in all appearance, the rather unconventional, albeit normal weapon was just that -a normal weapon. In retrospect, he supposed a lot more could have happened to the American while in Voldemort's tender care that Duo was unwilling to discuss, and Harry really didn't want to pry.

"Chat on, then."

Duo smirked. While Harry found nothing wrong with the American personality-wise, he found that the smarmy uplifting of the corners of his mouth annoyed Harry to no end, going as far as filling him with an almost irrefutable urge to punch the good-natured boy's face in. That burning urge to wipe that look off of Duo's face always made Harry feel guilty and confused, mostly because Duo wasn't a bad person who deserved to be hit, smirk or no smirk.(2)

"You do realize that if there's going to be anything remotely romantic between you and Dragon Boy, you're going to have to make the first move."

_That_ was the last thing Harry thought Duo would say. Which, damn it all, meant he really should have expected it. "What makes you think that we-?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Potter," Duo laughed. "You're gagging for it. He's gagging for it. You two are a match made in heaven, as sad as that is. It's really obvious."

"Oh, really?" Harry demanded, crossing his arms stubbornly. "How obvious is it?"

"You hate the way he insults your friends, insults random people in general, his little snarky grins and jives, and the way he styles his hair," Duo said knowingly, "but on the other hand, you think all of these qualities are endearing and unique to Draco. Likewise, he hates how you act before you think, the way you charge in when you don't have all your facts straight, and the fact you haven't acknowledged the proper use of a comb yet. On the other hand, he thinks it's cute."

Harry blinked. "He thinks it's... cute? Did he _tell_ you that?"

"It's all in the subtext, Harry. The point of the matter is, _he's_ not going to make the first move because he hates to make his feelings obvious, and his ego, while large and intimidating, is easily shattered. C'mon, Harry, you're the epitome of Gryffindor. You _have_ to make the first move."

It was a conversation that stuck with Harry for the month and a half that followed, only briefly shelved during exam week which, to his surprise and Ron's disgust, wasn't as stressful and difficult as in previous years. It was Ron's dying hope that this was more or less influenced by the teachers cutting the students some slack for once, but judging by the complaints that Seamus, Dean, and Neville had about the matter, it was a vain hope.

McGonagall had confirmed their marked improvement when she stopped them in a relatively empty corridor while they were on their way to dinner after their last grueling day of exams was finished. "You two did remarkably well on both your Transfiguration written exam and the practical three days ago. I take it Miss Granger has finally whipped the two of you into shape?"

"It wasn't me, Professor," Hermione said with a rueful shake of her head. "It was Draco."

Both of McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Mr. Black? I'd heard that the four of you had taken to studying together, but I had no idea that Black would have such a strong impact..."

"Ron can't help but to listen to Draco when he uses insults to make his point," Hermione replied dryly, "and Harry thinks it's _funny_."

"I do not," Harry lied. Okay, so a small part of him found Draco's cynicism and wit absolutely hilarious, and Ron's reactions were more than a little comical, too. Most of his amusement could be explained by the idea that Ron was actually learning something because of Draco's tactics. That didn't mean he didn't feel sympathetic, though.

"He never insults _you_," Ron said in disgust when they walked away from McGonagall. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that manky little blighter has a crush on you, Harry."

That cinched it. If _Ron_ noticed that Draco felt a little more than friendly in regards to Harry (no offense meant to Ron, but he wasn't exactly the most observant person Harry had ever met), it must have been true. That meant that Harry really did have to make the first move because Draco wasn't about to go there, feelings be damned.

He had three days to think about how he would go about making the first move. Three days was enough time to devise a plan, right?

Right?

----------

As it turned out, planning wasn't exactly Harry's strong point.

"I can't believe you still haven't done anything yet."

"Hey! This is unchartered territory for me. Leave it alone!"

"Harry, I don't know if you've noticed this, but we're on a train heading for King's Cross. In two hours you and Draco will part ways, and the unresolved sexual tension in the air will make the both of you crabby as hell. I don't know if you know this or not, but me and the guys are going to stay with Draco this summer, and Heero and Wufei tend to be very crabby people. Two crabby people I can handle. Three crabby people are absolutely intolerable."

Heero gave his boyfriend a reprimanding look. "Duo."

"What? It's true!"

"Yes, but you shouldn't pressure him, Duo," Quatre pointed out logically, comfortably reclined against Trowa's side.

Trowa nodded solemnly. "He's probably feeling nervous enough about this as it is. Draco isn't the easiest person to deal with."

Wufei smirked. "Oh, I'm sure your words of comfort relieve that nervousness admirably, Barton."

"I think all of you are mad," Ron said firmly. "Absolutely barking mad. The only reason I'm not calling St. Mungo's on all of you is because I know what smitten-Harry looks like, and that's it right there. I can't believe you actually like the git, mate."

"It does make a twisted sort of sense," Hermione mused aloud. "Draco's not a horrible person once you get used to the prickly exterior. Then again, I'm almost positive I've grown numb to all the barbs Draco could possibly throw at me. And Harry does think he's funny."

"He's a prima donna drama queen," Harry said with a snort. "What's not funny about that?"

Ron looked like the answer was rather obvious. "Oh, it's hilarious when that prima donna drama queen attitude doesn't result in that mangy git insulting everything from your physical appearance to your parentage. Again, something he hasn't done to you in recent memory."

"You know, he wouldn't do that to you as much if you didn't rise to the bait," Trowa pointed out.

"He calls me Weasel. I'm required by law to hate him." And that was all Ron really had to say about the matter. The debate probably would have dragged on for another two hours if Duo didn't gently take Harry by the arm and propel him out of the compartment with a good-natured pat on the back.

"Go and make your move, for God's sake. I happen to know that he's in the baggage car silently stewing over the crappy lot life has dealt him recently."

Harry gave him an odd look. "How do you know that?"

"Because I was with him earlier," Duo replied cheerfully, "and he threw his shoe at me. He does that, you know; throws the most unconventional things at people. Now go!"

Damn it, he was going to get a shoe thrown at him. And it was all Duo's fault.

----------

Okay. The cons.

Well, he was disinherited, disillusioned, possibly hunted, and a little miserable over his lousy heart's decision to patter for the attention of the Boy Who Lived. The disinheritance he could live with, since he knew his former father had his best interests in mind. The disillusionment was bound to happen one day, though he would have preferred it later to sooner. Being hunted would have probably been inevitable anyway because of his stupid heart's little infatuation.

He glared down at his chest. _I thought I _killed _you already._

His heart mocked him by beating.

Fine, then. The pros.

He'd grown up a lot over the year, learning that loyalty outside of one's family and house wasn't exactly as terrible as most Slytherins made it out to be. He had broken the mold his former father had set for him (though he didn't know if that was a pro or con; he decided to do that thing where he looked at the glass half-full when his innate nature wanted to scream half-empty). He had six new friends, five of which he really did trust with his life and well-being, the sixth well on his way to making it on such an exclusive list, as well. He was free to do what he wanted when he wanted, and damn what anybody else had to say about it.

He was free, even though a part of him really wished he wasn't.

So maybe things were far from the way he thought they would have played out. He could adapt. It's what Slytherins did best, after all.

Draco shot a glare over his shoulder when he heard the baggage car's door slide open right before it was closed again, the unmistakable footsteps of an intruder's approach loud despite the noise of the train. "If that's you, Duo, let me remind you that I have two shoes, and I'm just as willing to part with the second as I was with the first."

He heard a despairing sigh that was distinctly _not_ Duo's. "I knew I was going to get a shoe thrown at me."

Draco's heartbeat quickened dramatically. _Stop it! Stop. Damn you, heart, why won't you die?_

Again, his heart openly mocked him by continuing its fast pace.

"Oh, it's you," Draco said, standing up to stretch from the uncomfortable seated position he'd taken since the train had left Hogsmeade Station. "That's alright, then. I can be alone with you here."

"Thanks ever so," Harry said dryly, moving forward cautiously. Apparently, the Gryffindor really did expect Draco to hurl a shoe at him, which actually cheered Draco up a lot. Harry stopped within an arm's distance of Draco, suddenly appearing a little unsure of himself.

"I just... God, this sounds so wrong on so many levels, but I wanted to thank you for what you did for Ron." Harry smiled sheepishly, nervously flattening his bangs over his forehead. "I know you probably didn't think we'd noticed, but you somehow make Snape's method of teaching work on him."

Draco was both surprised and disappointed that his efforts were noticed. Instead of voicing his surprise, however, he voted to smirk arrogantly and ask, "So was Granger upset that I managed to drill more into Weasel's thick head in a few months than she's been able to do in six years?"

Harry shook his head ruefully. "Okay, Draco. Yes, Hermione's a little jealous. Don't let it get to your swelled head, prat."

"Oh, perish the thought," Draco said sardonically. He thought his ego needed a little stroking right about then, so he certainly _did_ allow Granger's jealousy get to his head. The offhanded praise was well deserved, after all, since he was simply brilliant like that.

"Speaking of that moron and his keeper, shouldn't you be with your friends right now?"

The expression on Harry's face was... strange. "Aren't _you_ my friend, too?"

That was probably the sappiest thing he'd ever heard, which, of course, made his heart beat that much faster. Spirits. He gave up. Harry Potter was _adorable_. And Draco Black had no resistance to people and things that were _adorable_.

"That goes without saying," Draco said with a casual shrug. "I just thought you'd want to hang out with your cheering squad before you were exiled to the muggles once more."

"Well, erm... I wanted to... that is to say..." Harry was absolutely flustered, which was something that Draco found both annoying and precious.

The former Malfoy heir raised a single eyebrow in question. "You wanted to... find a cure for the flu? Lycanthropy? See if I was miserable enough to throw myself off the train? Which I'm not, I assure you; I'm not that miserable yet. Okay, let me guess. Four words, sounds like...?"

Harry scowled. "Draco."

Draco smirked. "I thought the object of charades was that you aren't supposed to talk, Harry."

"You're making this a lot more difficult than it has any right to be," Harry grumbled.

"No, I'm not. You won't spit it out, and I'm making the best of the situation."

For a moment, it looked like Harry was going to throttle Draco. Then he muttered, "Oh, sod it," before he reached out, grabbed the lapels of Draco's extremely expensive dragon hide coat, pulled the former Malfoy heir closer and...

And Draco's brain shut down for five seconds.

Lips. Lips that belonged to Harry. Lips that belonged to Harry that were pressing against Draco's lips.

Draco decided he really liked the word lips, especially when said word was applied to the same person that made his heart want to explode... in a good way. The kiss was chaste and innocent and lasted just long enough without really lasting at all, and Harry tasted vaguely of mint and something that was what Draco privately called Harry's flavor because it really didn't have a name; it was a flavor only unique to Harry, or at least it was what that attention-starved romantic that dwelled deep inside of him called it. The sudden lightheaded feeling that engulfed Draco's higher brain functions was just starting to kick in when Harry pulled back, fingers still twisted in the lapels of Draco's coat as the kiss ended.

Harry's cheeks were stained red as he searched for some appropriate words to say, instead coming up with, "Um..."

Draco tried to smirk. He really did. But the look on Harry's face paired with the blushing was too cute, and all Draco could muster was an amused smile. "You can let go of my coat now."

The blush darkened, and Harry abruptly unfurled his fingers. "O-oh. Um... Do you...? Would you like to sit with us for the remainder of the trip?" The last part was said so fast that it took Draco a moment to decipher what was said.

Still couldn't muster up that smirk. "Okay."

"Okay?..."

"As in, 'yes, I will,'" Draco retorted, finally managed a half-decent smirk. "Really, Harry, it's not exactly a foreign word. Now help me find my other shoe."

----------

Duo grinned wildly when Harry and Draco finally made their appearance, his attention turning from the oh-so-exciting chess match between the Hogwarts Chess Champion Ron Weasley (who knew?) And the Gundam Chess Champion Quatre Winner battled each other with their best strategies (yawn).

"It's about time," he crowed.

"Shut up, Duo," the two said in unison, Harry's tell-tale blush evidence to his theory that Harry and Draco had done more than just talk. Oddly enough, Draco had a basket hanging from one arm, a particularly nasty gleam in his silver eyes.

"No matter what, every year is more surprising than the next," Hermione mused, absently running her fingers through Crookshanks' fur. "I'm not sure if we should dread seventh year or welcome it."

"Dread it," Ron mumbled, scowling to himself when Quatre took his rook. "We have NEWTs, after all."

"Sod seventh year," Draco said, barreling into the compartment and sitting himself directly in front of Hermione, giving the orange beast in her lap a vicious glare. "So that's the filthy little mongrel, is he."

Hermione scowled at Draco, hugging Crookshanks closer to her. Likewise, the beast gave Draco a baleful glare. "What are you talking about, Draco?"

Draco snorted, opening one side of the basket and peering in, carefully reaching down and pulling a newborn ginger-haired kitten whose eyes hadn't even opened yet. He held the tiny mewling copy of her father in the palm of his hand as he smirked at Hermione. "Congratulations, Granger. We're grandparents." He elaborated his statement by completely removing the lid of the basket, revealing a beautiful long-haired white cat and five more adorable little kittens, two of which also sported the father's coloring.

"Crookshanks, you cad!" Hermione exclaimed. The beast appeared completely unrepentant, leaping from Hermione's lap to sniff daintily at the mother cat and her kittens.

"See, Hermione? I told you that cat has no taste," Ron said, peering suspiciously at the white cat that was giving him a patent you're-beneath-my-notice look. "He shagged the feline equivalent of Draco bloody Black!"

Harry hid a smile behind the palm of his hand when Duo started cackling madly, leaning heavily against Heero for support. "That's actually pretty ironic, Ron, since Draco used the same comparison for you and Crookshanks."

Ron looked utterly disgusted; Duo laughed even harder, if only for the fact that Crookshanks looked about as horrified about the comparison as Ron did.

Draco smirked, leaning back and surveying the ensuing chaos. So there were a lot of cons to how his life had come to be today. He still had his health, his former father's respect, good friends, Harry, and an almost solid guarantee that whatever scathing comment he made toward the Weasel and Granger would be tolerated to a certain point before the Weasel actually gave in to the urge to hit him. It wasn't all bad.

Maybe it wasn't going to be as hard to deal with everything as he originally thought. He was a Slytherin, after all.

_**THE END**_

* * *

**(1) Thank you, Harry Potter Lexicon.**

**(2) Harry doesn't know it, but he feels this way because Voldemort and Duo have the same smirk, which I previously mentioned in chapter twenty-five.**

**Special Note: Starlight got my little personal joke to the world. That makes me happy for some reason. And if Draco or Lucius ever became a professor at either university, no force on this earth could stop me from having perfect attendance in whichever class they're involved in.**

**Thanks to all for taking the time to read and review! Keep a lookout for the sequel, which I've decided to title _Harry Potter and the Forgotten Heirs_. Thanks to all of you who took the time to make suggestions!**

**Ciao!**


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